


Atop the Billboard

by Sequesters



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, everybody's here pretty much, never know how far to go on these, the children more mildly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sequesters/pseuds/Sequesters
Summary: In which Robbie and Sportacus bond, with the help of Robbie’s constant lair disasters and poor impulse decisions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my Tumblr a little while ago (aleinnilatibae), finally got around to getting it to AO3. Hope yall enjoy it

                "EGGS!!"  Robbie shouted triumphantly, pulling them out from the back of his refrigerator. He cackled with glee, raising the carton high above his head and doing a little jig. "Ah doo doo doo, Ah doo doo doo, we're having CAKE tonight!" he sang, his voice echoing pleasantly off the walls of his lair. He was so happy that he lost himself a little-during a particularly emphatic twirl, he slipped in his slippered feet and landed HARD on his back.

                "Owwwww," he groaned painfully, like a slowly deflating balloon.  But, even though he sacrificed his body to do it, he still had the grip on the carton of eggs.  "Not-all-bad," he hissed, as he laboriously got up from the ground and cracked his neck a couple times.

                "Back to business," he smiled, and placed four eggs in a row on the table.

                "I will make exactly...ONE cake," he said, precisely aligning the four eggs.  But a thought nagged within him...

                "Okay maybe TWO cakes," he relented, a grin spreading as he aligned four more eggs in the row. Well, maybe...

                "THREE CAKES!" he exclaimed gleefully, putting all twelve eggs in a row,  tossing the carton over his shoulder, and wiggling his fingers in happiness.  "Three cakes, coming up!!"  He yanked on the lever next to him, and let out a long, booming laugh as a vacuum tube came down to suck up the entire row of eggs. 

                He ran up the stairs to his disguise machine, so he could see the contraption work better.  The eggs rolled out of the vacuum tube just a foot below the ceiling, cracked one by one on the side of the blue stone bowl, and a metal claw tossed the shells into the garbage. A whisk descended from the ceiling, blue as always, and violently scrambled all of the eggs while Robbie squealed with glee.  No matter how many different methods he came up with, no matter how many convoluted machines he invented for the purpose, he would never get tired of the cake baking process. It filled him with such glee and anticipation that he just couldn't stay still! He danced around, humming a tune, a flurry of limbs and joy.

                A "Ding!" brought him back to himself.  Finished with its job, the hydraulics whirred as the bowl was lowered back down to Robbie-level again.  Robbie wasted no time in running down the stairs again, reaching out for the bowl. "Oh yes," he said, stretching his arms up high, "come to Daddy."

                He firmly grasped the sides of the stone bowl, and looked inside.

                Immediately he was struck with a wave of smell SO HORRIFYING, that he physically recoiled and tossed the offending smell away with a little shriek-- and absolutely no thought to where it would land.

                "Rotten eggs!" he exclaimed, pinching his nose delicately with one hand. "They've betrayed me!" he said nasally, wincing as he heard the crash of the bowl on the ground.

                It had landed on the floor.  Which, if he were being honest, wasn't the WORST place for it to go. That honor would probably go to the replicator.  As it was, it would probably be an easy cleanup.  He strode over, still pinching his nostrils closed, and yanked the Vac-O-Matic out from underneath a pile of junk and aiming its tube at the gooey mess.

                "Get out of my nostrils, you-you horrid stench!" he exclaimed, and flipped the switch.

                Wrong switch.

                With the Vac-O-Matic's powerful leafblower setting, rancid egg particles blew across the lair like wind-scattered dandelion fluff.  Ugh, they were a horrible GREEN color.  He had to admit, the green of the eggs and the blue of his lair made a nice color composition together, he would have to remember that the next time he-

                "No! No!" he said, slapping himself across the face with each no, wincing at the sting. "Stay focused."

                So, he trudged over to the closet, pulled out a mop, a scrub brush, and a bottle of VERY STRONGTM cleaning fluid, and marched his way over to the mess.  "Fine.  I guess we will have to do this," he cracked his knuckles, "the HARD way."

                He had no idea how long he was there cleaning, but it felt like hours. Every time he thought he was done, he would turn around to see more green flecks that he missed, and start again with an extremely frustrated groan.

                "Stupid...eggs...stupid...Vac-O-Matic..." he grumbled, scrubbing the very table where he had started this whole operation. "WHY did I have to combine the LEAFBLOWER in with the VACCUUM??" he asked...no one.  Nobody  was around to hear him complain, but it made him feel better anyway.  The lair was very quiet otherwise, save for the scrubbing noises.

                When he was FINALLY done, he stood up, panting from the exercise. "I have cleaned EVERY. SINGLE. INCH." he raised his voice so it would reverberate back to him, "Of this place. But..." he grimaced, "I can still SMELL IT!" he yelled, anguished.  And it wasn't just the eggs! Now, there was the fumes of the cleaning fluid, and the combination of those two things were...making him very sick and dizzy.  "I need some AIR," he gasped, and climbed up, out of the hatch, into the nighttime air.

                "I can STILL SMELL IT!!" he exclaimed, now standing on the surface level of Lazytown. It lingered in his nose, the residual smell of cleaning fluid mixed with rotten eggs was still making his head spin and his stomach gurgle.  He needed more space between himself and the source of the smell!! He glanced up at the billboard, and a plan formed in his head.

                Once up at the top, he took a deep breath of the night air.  "Aahhh, yes," he sighed. "Free at last from that HORRIBLE smell."  A couple more deep breaths, and the fuzziness in his brain cleared up.

                That made him realize something important: he did NOT like heights.

                Equally important: he COULD have just taken a walk to the other side of Lazytown to escape the smell...

                "UGH, the stink-smell got inside my brain!!" he cried out, and slumped down.  "I better get down from here." But the moment he peeked over the side of the billboard he was hit with a wave of fear. What if he fell off this thing! Then he'd be laying injured, or DEAD, for the rest of the night, until Sportacus woke up at the crack of dawn and-

                "Sportacus!" he exclaimed out loud. He looked around.  That sounded far too happy, he was very glad that nobody heard that. But he had a plan now. "I will just stay here, PERFECTLY STILL, and WAIT til that Sportaflippity-flop wakes up at the crack of dawn.  What time is it now?" he asked himself, turning his wrist to look at his watch.

                "Hmm," he mused.  "It _appears_...that I don't HAVE a watch." He looked up at the moon instead, to gauge the time.  It was high overhead as he stared at it, studied it, measured how many hands away from the horizon it was...

                "I have no idea when moonrise was today," he admitted, sighing.  "This is...useless."

                He sighed, and tried to mentally prepare himself to sit atop the sign all night.  "I must not look down, I must not look down, I must not look down-EEK!" he squealed as he broke his mantra, grabbing onto the nearest light fixture.  "Oh, where is that elf when you need him??" he lamented.

                As if answering his call, a ladder suddenly unfurled itself out of the cloud overhead, ending right next to him.  Could it be? Yes! Sportacus was climbing down the ladder with a fluid speed that struck Robbie as lizardlike.  Robbie was pleasantly surprised to see him so soon, but tried not to show it.

                Sportacus landed on the sign, lit by the flashing colors of his crystal. 

                "Hello Robbie!" he shouted cheerily. Ugh, that cheerful energy made him even MORE tired.  He flashed a halfhearted smile back.  "What are you doing up at this hour?"

                "I...flooded my entire lair with noxious gas," Robbie admitted. 

                Sportacus gasped, horrified.  "Poison?" he grabbed onto his ladder again. "Come on, we gotta--"

                "No, no, it was just...very smelly," Robbie said, waving off Sportacus' panic.  "I let the eggs go bad, and..." how could he describe the turn of events? "I dropped them."

                "Oh no!" Sportacus said, sympathetically.  He still had one hand on the ladder, but looked more relaxed now.

                "I cleaned it all up, but it still smells TERRIBLE in there," Robbie lamented. "Either way, I am NOT going back in there tonight."

                "Understandable," Sportacus nodded.

                "But...could you...help me get down? From here?" Robbie asked tentatively.

                "Anything to help a friend," Sportacus replied, then paused.  "Unless this is a scheme to run me out of town," he said, performing a fake frown but his eyes still sparkled.

 _Oh so THAT'S what he thinks about my competence as a villain_ , he thought grumpily. "No," he said, "I wouldn't put myself in this position for a scheme." He glanced downward again, closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "NOT worth it."

                "Okay!" Sportacus smiled, and held out his hand. Robbie stared at it for a moment, looking the hero's arm up and down, and then took it.

                "If you can't go back inside, where are you going to sleep? Would you like to come with me to the airship?"

                "NO! No, no thank you. I have a...sleeping bag, and a tent, out in the shed.  From the last time."

                "What was the last time?" he asked, hoisting Robbie easily over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and beginning the climb down.

                "Well," he said, trying to concentrate on his story and not on the fact that he was suddenly UPSIDE DOWN 22 FEET IN THE AIR WHAT THE HELL SPORTAKOOK, "I was trying to combine some new-OOF!-ingredients for a stinkbomb that I could use to...ahem...to run you out of town." He flushed a little, it felt weird just SAYING it outright.  Especially while being saved.

                "Uh-huh," Sportacus said in response.

                "And-and it exploded inside my lair."

                "How tragic," his rescuer said, abnormally deadpan.  Was that sarcasm? Sportaflop could DO sarcasm??

                "Oh yes," Robbie said as Sportacus flipped him back onto his feet. He stumbled for a moment before finding his footing again.  "I couldn't go back inside for a whole day," he said, pinching his nose in memory.

                "Well, here we are," Sportacus said.

                "Yes," Robbie agreed. He fidgeted for a moment.  He probably SHOULD thank him for saving him, when he usually would be asleep.  But he couldn't be TOO sincere about it. "I will still try to run you out of town you know," he said, lamely.  "But...thank you for the assistance."

                Sportacus beamed. "Anytime, Robbie!" he said, and jumped back up on the ladder, scaling it in record time and pedaling the ship off into the night.

                A sudden wave of exhaustion hit Robbie. He yawned wide.  "Time to SLEEP," he said, dragging his feet all the way to the shed where he kept his emergency supplies.

                Inside, he unrolled his fuzzy orange sleeping bag, and slid himself in.  "Nighty night," he said to no one, and fell asleep almost instantly.


	2. Chapter 2

                Robbie was rudely awakened the next afternoon by a loud BANG!  Momentarily disoriented by the sound, he sat straight up. "What? Buh? Huh?" he garbled, looking left, right, left. He blinked a few times, and rubbed his eyes.  "That is the sound of a rubber ball hitting a shed wall," he observed blearily. Oh, that's right. He was in the shed, in his fuzzy orange sleeping bag.

                "Now why did I come out here?" He asked himself, and that triggered his memory. Eggs. Stink. Billboard. Sportacus saving him...

                Sportacus TALKING to him.  He couldn't even REMEMBER the last time they had just had a normal conversation, like the one last night.  Usually he was too embarrassed to stick around after he was unmasked,  and it's not like they were on speaking terms generally.  They were hero and villain, and they stuck to their roles most of the time.

                Didn't stop Robbie from having a crush on him, though.

                "Yuck," he gagged.  He felt a little sick whenever he was forced to acknowledge that. It was embarrassing! He was the VILLAIN. And yet...every time Sportacus was nice to him, he felt a twinge in his midsection.   But nobody EVER had to know about THAT. He had those feelings locked RIGHT up.

                Except talking to him last night, had really...STIRRED up those feelings, making it feel like he had restless bees swarming around in his midsection. So he had to admit...

                "It was uh, nice...to talk," he mused. "But oh, how humiliating to be carried down the ladder like a baby!" He moaned, kicking off the sleeping bag with some difficulty, and then kicking it into a corner of the shed. "Whatever. Good thing that's over," he smiled, and wiped his hands of imaginary dust.  "I'm definitely not going back up THERE again."

 

-

  

              "I...." Robbie sighed deeply, steepling his fingers together. "I set a...battery powered robot loose."

                Sportacus sat down next to him on the sign. "You what?"

                "Well I HAD a battery powered vaccuum," Robbie held up one hand,  "And I had a few spare kits from the Metal Monster Jaws company," he held up the other, "now tell me WHAT was I SUPPOSED to do but COMBINE THEM??" Robbie smashed his hands together haphazardly, which was a not inaccurate demonstration of the process.  He let his hands fall to his lap. 

                "I don't know, Robbie.  I guess that is the only logical next step, " Sportacus said, eyes sparkling with mirth. Was Sportacus LAUGHING at his SUFFERING??

                "It has FOUR SETS of gnashing teeth! I got scared!" Robbie said defensively.  "I'm waiting til it runs out of battery!" He gulped, and hugged himself. "Even though I REALLY do not like it up here."

                "At least the moon is nice," Sportacus said.

                "Yes, yes it is," Robbie said, fixing his eyes on that instead of the 22 foot drop below.  With that, he felt a little more relaxed.

                "If you are in a situation that really frightens you, sometimes it is better to focus on what's good about it, rather than the fear, " Sportacus said.

                Robbie gasped.  Tricked! Into panicking less!

                "You...REALLY take this hero thing VERY seriously, don't you?" Robbie said, looking at Sportacus now. "Even helping ME, the VILLAIN."

                Sportacus just smiled and nodded. "Everybody needs help."

                "But this could be your chance to get one-up on me! Get revenge for all of my schemes!" He dimly thought that maybe he shouldn't give him any IDEAS, but...Sportacus never DID any DEFEATING! It was so confusing! He would save everyone from a scheme gone haywire but...he let Robbie get off scot-free every time.

                 "Robbie, I'm everyone's hero!" he declared, holding his arms out as if presenting himself. "Including you," he said, clapping him hard on the back.

                Too hard--Robbie could feel himself slipping.

                "HELP!" he screamed, as his behind lost traction with the sign.  He felt the sick, lurching feeling of gravity acting on the pit of his stomach, and worse-complete and total helplessness.  He could only squeeze his eyes shut as he plummeted toward his own demise, then-

                -he stopped.  A strong arm had caught his own, suspending him awkwardly like a rag doll.  He chanced one eye open, then the other. He was alive! He looked up to see Sportacus, breathing heavily, the other arm hooked around a ladder rung. "I got you," he was mumbling. "I got you."  He pulled him up with a single bicep curl to standing position on the sign. 

                "I am so, so sorry," he said, still holding his arm for stability. "I almost killed you."

                Robbie's vision was swimming, he felt woozy from the aftermath of the sheer terror he had just experienced. 

                "Just-please-get me down," he managed.

                "Hold onto me," Sportacus offered, pointing to his back.  Robbie uh..."climbed aboard," and they descended the ladder, a trembling Robbie clinging tightly to him like a koala, face buried in his neck so he didn't have to look at the ground.

 _At least he doesn't SMELL like fruit,_  Robbie thought dimly.

                "We're here," Sportacus said gently, and only then did Robbie let go and find his wobbly feet on blessedly solid ground. 

                "Again, I'm so sorry to have put you in danger," Sportacus said, looking...sad? Upset? Robbie didn't really care at the moment, but it was different than usual.  "You sure you're okay?"

                Robbie's mouth was dry, heart beating HARD in his chest, he swallowed with great difficulty.

                "I'm fine," he panted.

                "Are you sure?"

                "Yes, yes, now go away," he said, shooing him off.

                Sportacus hesitated, then climbed back up the ladder--but not without a backward glance or two.

                Once the ladder had ascended too, Robbie sat right on the ground, his panicked breaths rushing free now that he was alone.  He spent some time trying to hyperventilate a little bit slower, get the oxygen to stay in his brain so he could process what happened instead of reliving the feelings over and over.  That was his absolute worst nightmare, being pushed off the sign.  And it had happened.  Thankfully he was ALIVE, due to Sportacus' fast reflexes, but it was also due to Sportacus that he fell off in the first place!

                "God damn it!" he swore, getting up to pace. "How am I supposed to FEEL about this??"

                He stopped as an idea struck him. "Maybe...maybe I'll hate Sportacus for real this time?" he asked himself, tapping his chin with a finger in thought.  "No, no, that didn't work. I still..." he couldn't say it out loud.  He did feel upset! Because of the horrifying thing that just happened! But it killed neither him nor his crush on that blue kangaroo!

                "One thing is for certain," he growled, "I am NEVER.  EVER climbing that thing again."

 

-

 

                The  first thing he did when he woke up the next day, was make a decision.

                "I am going to STAY. DOWN. HERE," he announced to no one,  "Where I don't have to SEE anyone or TALK TO anyone or...DO ANYTHING!" he yelled.

                "And nobody can stop me," he said, satisfied.  He leaned back in his chair and intended on sleeping again.

                But, his stomach chose that exact moment to cramp, painfully. He popped his eyes open and grabbed at it, looking down.  How long had it been since he had a good meal? How long had it been since he had gone to the STORE?

                He looked to the ceiling, and counted back the days in his head.

                Both of those things had been since...before the Egg Incident.

                "Is that REALLY how long it's been since I've been to the store?" he gasped. "Time flies when you're evil, I guess...and eating cake mix for every meal," he said, looking down as his stomach made more angry noises. "Ohh," he gasped, "An omelet sounds SO GOOD right about now.  Maybe, I can sneak to the grocery store and buy some more eggs!" 

                His lip curled. "I really don't feel like going up there today though. I REALLY don't."   He was still feeling the aftermath of his brush with death from the night previous, and he would love to just...sit down and ignore the world for a while.  But, his stomach decided that was the right moment to give him a sickening hunger pang that almost made him double over. That was a bad sign. "It looks like YOU'RE not giving me any CHOICE," he told it. He sighed deeply. He knew what had to be done.

                "Well," he said, laboriously standing up, "If anything WEIRD happens today, I'm blaming YOU."

                He froze.  "I'm talking to my STOMACH," he realized, grimacing. "I really DO need some food."

                Rising up into the bright sunlight was just another onslaught to his senses.  Ohh, he was THIS close to becoming completely overwhelmed,  the hunger and the irritability were putting him on thin ice. He took a deep breath, and put on his best villain stride, furrowing his brows.  Maybe nobody would bother him if he looked angry enough.

                His strategy worked well for almost the whole way to the grocery store. Probably because he didn't see anyone. When he rounded the strange, standalone section of wall that honestly had no purpose, (seriously why was it there?) there was the grocery store! He was so close! But there was also a VERY LOUD soccer game going on that he would HAVE to pass to get there.  He looked at the store and the game, back and forth, back and forth, calculating. Was it worth it?  "I must do it," he said, steeling himself.  His stomach growled in agreement.  So he furrowed his eyebrows a little more, and strode on.

                He was JUST passing the soccer game when heard from behind him what sounded like someone stomping. Or-or jumping, with both feet-

                "Oh _no_ ," he said to himself. He turned around to see Sportacus flipping right toward him.  Caught like a deer in the headlights, he searched for a place to hide...

                "Robbie!" he called.  Fear gripped his heart. Too late!

                His next course of action was to ignore him and continue on, a plan which Sportacus ruined by doing a double backflip DIRECTLY OVER HIS HEAD and landing right in front of him.

                Robbie stiffened and stopped in his tracks, letting out a little "eep!"

                "H-how are you, Robbie?" Sportacus asked.

 _PLEASE. NOT. NOW._ "Don't talk to me, Sportaflop. I'm only up here because I need food. NOT to play with the little brats," he gestured at the soccer game.

                Sportacus nervously fidgeted. "There is something I need to say to you."

                "Whatever it IS, I'm SURE it can wait until TOMORROW," Robbie said, irritably.  He needed to get out of there, and FAST. Every sound from that godforsaken game was POUNDING in his ears. He winced as the Pink One started to scream and cheer. Nope. Time to go. He started walking away.

                "No, Robbie," Sportacus said, catching his arm.

                RED ALERT. DO NOT GRAB ROBBIE ROTTEN WHEN HE IS ON EDGE. "Let go of me!" he snarled, and wrenched his arm from his grasp, finally looking Sportaflop in the face.  Oh, heaven help him, Sportacus looked DISTRAUGHT. He was NEVER this upset when Robbie was rude to him before, what could he POSSIBLY want to say?  But the emotions on Sportacus' face were spilling into Robbie, and it was making him wobble on the edge of a meltdown. "T-talk to me later," Robbie said, attempting an apologetic tone as he sprinted off, tears starting to pour as he ran.

                He ducked behind a house and sat against the cold brick, head in his knees, sobbing.  Too bright, too loud, too noisy too...MUCH!  He tightly grabbed around his own legs as he tried to control his sobs, but he knew in the back of his mind that they would come and go as they liked. At least the cool of the shade and the relative quiet were soothing, in comparison to everything that came before.

                Even when his sobs subsided, he still kept his face planted into his own knees. Moving was simply out of the question, so he just...stayed there. Sitting on the cool grass, back against the rough brick, head against his uncomfortably bony knees. He had no idea how long he had been in that position, but it was absolutely long enough to regret it later when he heard a familiar voice.

                "Robbie _Rotten_?"

                He snapped his head up, and his neck and back protested angrily.

                "OW!" he exclaimed, his stiff neck and back freezing in position. "Go away kid," he gasped in pain. _Not very effective._

                Stephanie didn't move.  "Are you okay?"

                "I'm fine," he said, trying to force a smile through the pain. He must look like a mess, sitting in the dirt, tear tracks on his face, shoulders raised involuntarily to his ears.

                Her eyes narrowed. "Are your shoulders SUPPOSED to be like that?"

                "Yes, it's the...new style.  Quite relaxing," he strained, giving another grimace-smile.

                Stephanie went closer to him.

                "You LOOK like you were CRYING," She observed.

 _WHY are kids LIKE THIS??_ "Thanks for NOTICING," Robbie snarled.  Maybe if he was MEAN, she would go AWAY.

                But Stephanie only nodded sympathetically. "Once, I sat in bed for two whole days.  Then when I got up, moving hurt SO BAD that I started crying too.  Sportacus had to help me get flexible enough to dance again!"

                "I swear if you call Sportaflop right now I'll-"

                "Don't worry. I got this," she said, rubbing her hands together with a downright DEVILISH look in her eye.

                "No, no,"  he said, laboriously, and far too slowly, finding his way to his feet. "No way, Pink Girl. On second thought, Sportacus sounds like a GREAT op-" he froze midsentence, as she was not in front of him anymore. "Where'd she go?" he asked nervously.

                The answer turned out to be, behind him.

                "AAGH!" he cried as she wedged her tiny fist into the base of his spine.               

                "Kid, kid, have mercy, you're gonna damage my-UUGH!!" he cried again as she JUMPED ON HIS BACK and stabbed what felt like a knuckle inbetween two of his shoulder muscles.

                "Don't worry Robbie, I do this to my uncle all the time!" she reassured him, as she attacked his other shoulder.

                "Get off me, child!" he commanded, but she did not listen.

                "Relax, Robbie!" she said in return, before shoving an elbow into the side of his neck.

                "Re-LAX?!" he squeaked as she continued on her quest to cleave every muscle from his bones.  "I am NOT-UGH!-A-HRK!-T-BONE-AAHAH!-STEAK!" he protested, punctuated by his involuntary reactions to particularly SHARP jabs to his body.  Good LORD this kid was absolutely RELENTLESS.

 _This is how I die,_ he thought numbly.  _Killed by the Pink One, and her amateur chiropractics._

                Something cracked, very loudly, and she  jumped off of her own accord.

                "All done!" She squealed, clearly very proud of herself.

                He whirled around and pointed at her. "Oh, NOW you're done?? Now that you've completely DESTROYED my body, NOW you're DO-" he cut himself off as he realized something.  He was wildly gesticulating, pointing...without any pain at all.  His mouth dropped open. He wiggled his shoulders.  He moved his head around.  He moved one arm in a circle, and then the other.

                "You-" Robbie said, pointing as if he was going to continue yelling at her, but he just...couldn't do it. "You should REALLY, REALLY, get LICENSED, before trying that kind of STUNT again," he said, a bit lamely.  Because she DID help him.  But, it would be irresponsible to...encourage her, lest she become some sort of chiropractic mini-vigilante who jumped on the backs of unsuspecting adults.

                "You're welcome, Robbie!" She beamed, and skipped off without another word.

                He stood there, in the alleyway, for a little while longer.  "Why do these things always happen to ME?" he asked the universe.

                The universe had no answer.  So he just sighed, and walked the rest of the way to the grocery store. That was what he came up here to do, and by god, he was going to accomplish that goal today.

                Arriving back home with his hard-earned groceries, WITHOUT any more surprise attacks from children or superheroes, he breathed a sigh of relief.

                "TOO MANY THINGS happened today," he announced to his lair.  "First order of business: MAKE an OMELET!"

                 Eggs, diced onions, and cheese.  "That's all an omelet should EVER be," he grumbled as it fried, inspecting it for doneness.  When it was finished, he didn't bother with a plate.  He took the entire pan with him to his chair, settling in amongst the soft fibers, and placed it on his lap.

                Big mistake.

                "AAAHHH!" he screamed, picking up the searing hot pan from his lap in a flash. "Ugh, it was JUST on the STOVE, Robbie!" he scolded himself. "HOW could you FORGET that the STOVE is HOT??"

                He sighed. "And _why_ do I keep getting HURT when eggs are involved?" he lamented.  He rocked once, twice, three times, until the momentum from the chair carried him up to his feet.  Grumbling, he went back into the kitchen to get an actual plate.

                When finally, FINALLY, he was safely in his chair with his food and without any more... _hazards_ around, he put the first bite in his mouth.

                BLISS.

                Oh, the flavors were perfect.  He knew that not everybody liked omelets like this, but did he look like a caterer? No. He was a caterer for one: Robbie Rotten.

                And his single customer was EXTREMELY satisfied.

                "Ahh," he sighed, contented. "Problem solved." he leaned back into his chair with a smile, closing his eyes.

                Onto problem two: Guilt.

                His eyes popped open.

                "Guilt?" he spat, like the word tasted disgusting. "Really?"

                But yes, as much as he didn't want to believe it, he was feeling guilty about snapping at Sportacus.

                "Why SHOULD I feel guilty?" he asked himself. "I've done far worse to him before! I'm supposed to be bad anyway! WHY am I feeling-" he cut himself off with a gasp as the answer occured to him.

                "Everything I've done," he said slowly,  "All of my schemes against him...he has never looked that SAD before," Robbie said. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh.  "Oh, I've got to at least EXPLAIN myself somehow..."

                But he couldn't figure out quite HOW.  It was never the right TIME. When would he do it, anyway? He couldn't exactly do it in disguise, and he certainly wasn't going to let the KIDS overhear him, he had a REPUTATION to uphold. So he went on as normal for a few more days, a few more schemes, trying to find the right time.  There was a tension in the air, Sportacus seemed a little less...enthusiastic, than usual, in dealing with his plans. And with each day that went on, the guilt ate at Robbie more and more, and the harder he tried to find a way to talk to him with no one else around. But the more he tried, the more it seemed like Sportacus was AVOIDING him, he kept flipping away into his ship as soon as the problem was solved!  How was he supposed to explain himself NOW??

                The answer ended up coming to him when he was least expecting it: during another chaotic night in the lab.

                "Carefully..." Robbie was muttering, using an eyedropper to transfer an extremely volatile substance into an even MORE volatile substance that would, theoretically, make a somewhat stable smoke bomb.

                "Carefully..." he said again, tongue between his teeth, one eye closed as he squeezed a single drop into the flask. "Last...drop..." he said through gritted teeth, trying to calm his shaky fingers.

                And then he sneezed.

                BOOM! The entire lair was filled with purple smoke in a matter of seconds.  Robbie coughed and tried to wave it from his face, but there was ENTIRELY too much of it for that now. "C-can't-breathe-" he spluttered, but realized that monologuing was not worth the precious oxygen.  That he was rapidly losing. He had a gas mask somewhere, where was it?! Where was it?!?!  All he could see was PURPLE!! He felt around for one of the most likely piles, metal pieces clanging to the ground as he dislodged them in his search.

                It was taking too long.  His eyes were stinging, he could see spots at the edges of his vision, and his body was physically rejecting the attempts to breathe in any more of the smoke. He needed to get OUT of there or he was going to DIE. He mercifully found the first rung of the ladder by touch, and started the climb.

                Somehow, possibly just through muscle memory alone, he made it up and out.  He coughed until his throat was raw, gulping in deep breaths of night air and hanging onto the light fixture as tightly as possible.

                Wait. Light fixture?

                "UUUUUUUUGHHH!!!" he drew out his groan in frustration. "I didn't want to end up HERE!!"

                He crossed his arms and huffed, because sure enough, he was sitting atop the billboard.  AGAIN.

                "Well, I'll just have to wait for Sportakook to descend from the heavens and-"

                He gasped. "Oh no!" he looked around. "Sportacus has been avoiding me! What if he doesn't COME this time??" He bit his fingernails on the hand not grasping his anchor, anxiously watching the sky.

                That thought was SORT OF on his mind every time he was in trouble, and he had been proved wrong every time, but still-

                THUNK.  The unfolded ladder hit the billboard right next to him, and he exhaled a HUGE sigh of relief as the hero climbed down to his level.

                "Robbie," Sportacus said, a note of surprise in his voice. "I'm surprised to see you back up here after..."

                "Don't remind me," Robbie said tersely, kicking his feet against the billboard.

                They sat in silence, and Robbie sneaked a glance at Sportacus.  He still looked...down in the dumps.

                "I understand that you don't want to talk to me," Sportacus said, quietly. "But...I still need to tell you something."

                Don't WANT to?? Oh no, that was very, VERY wrong.  _This is your chance Robbie! Take it!_

                "Uhm," Robbie said, looking around for cues. He hadn't planned for this in advance. _Time to improvise!_  "You know that I can be mean, cranky, and irritable." _What an OPENER, Robbie Rotten. Bravo._   "When you tried to talk to me before," he stopped, took a comically deep breath and barrelled on, "Four days ago, the-the bright sunlight-" he screwed up his face, "-and the loud children-" he made high pitched mocking noises imitating their voices, "-and I was just...SO HUNGRY." he groaned, grabbing his stomach. Sportacus looked confused still. "And then you grabbed me and it was all...too much.  I simply COULDN'T take it," he said, grimacing at the awful memory. 

                "But look around," he continued, actually grinning now. "No sun, no kids, and NO. NOISE.  Tell me what you wanted to say."

                Sportacus' face changed from entirely upset to...something else.  Understanding? "Thank you for explaining," he said, nodding.  "And I wanted to say was...I'm sorry."

                Robbie was taken aback.

                "For what?"

                "You know, about the last time we were up here," Sportacus said, gesturing around. He paused for a moment, pursed his lips, and continued on.  "I, as a hero, am supposed to keep people from danger, not cause it. I'm...I'm sorry I failed you."  His face looked the same as it did that night, which Robbie was clear-headed enough now to see that-

                He was VISIBLY upset. Possibly on the verge of tears?? Robbie again felt the urge to flee, yet there was nowhere to go. He'd have to face this.   _Quick, how does Sportacus make people feel better, think! Think!_

                "Hey, uh, it's okay!" Robbie said, smiling wide. "I didn't die so...it's fine!" he said, putting two thumbs up. Sportacus managed a half-hearted smile.  _Good, good, it's working!_

                "But you COULD have.  And that...is unacceptable for a hero.  I hope you can forgive me," Sportacus said, a bit thickly.  He wiped at his eye, and Robbie went wide-eyed.  if Sportacus started crying right now he would NOT know how to deal with it. His whole world might come crashing down. _Try again, Robbie!_

                "Pah, what's to forgive?" Robbie scoffed, trying to bring back a little lightheartedness to the hero.  "You HAVE to get me back for all I've done SOMEHOW! What's a little terror between friends, eh?" he bumped him with his elbow.

                Sportacus didn't budge, and he didn't say anything either.  He was just looking down at his own legs. Robbie sighed.

                "Ugh, Sportacus, look.  You _might_ have...pushed me off this sign, which is my, uh, NUMBER ONE fear, but-" Sportacus clapped a hand to his mouth in horror.  _Oh, Robbie, you HUMAN DISASTER._ _Get to the point!_   "But-did I even get hurt? No! Not a scratch," he said, fake-examining his body. "Ta-da!!" he presented.

                Sportacus was looking at him intently.  Did that mean he was considering what Robbie was saying?   _A good sign! Keep going!_

                "Even after all I've done-or tried to do-to you, you still did your little hero thing-" he wiggled his fingers for emphasis,  "-and saved me. So, you made up for it by...doing that.  And I...forgive you and everything," he mumbled.

                Sportacus blinked several times, then nodded. "Thank you, Robbie," he said, quietly.

                "Whatever," he said gruffly.

                Sportacus wiped at his eye again, and then shook himself out of the fog, giving Robbie a real smile.  Robbie gave a forced smile in return. Thank goodness, he seemed to be back to his old self. _It worked!_

                "Anyway. What's the trouble tonight?" Sportacus asked, in a much cheerier voice.

                "What? Oh, yeah," Robbie said.  He had forgotten momentarily the reason why he had run up there in the first place."There's a whole bunch of smoke down in my lair.  So thick I couldn't find my gas mask.  So up I went."

                "No wonder my crystal went off. Your lair sounds VERY dangerous, Robbie."

                Robbie considered. "It is. But, I accept the risks of the job, so I can come up with MORE villainous contraptions!!"  he let out a villainous laugh. Sportacus just smiled.

                "Well, be careful.  Your wellbeing is important to me, you know."

                "I-" Robbie sputtered, heart beating faster. "Th-thanks?"

                "You're welcome," Sportacus said, jumping up and bringing his fists to his hips. "Now, let's get down from here."

                Sportacus put him down on the solid ground with a "Good luck with your lair, Robbie," and then skipped to his ladder, scaling it lightning fast.

                Robbie watched him climb up, and then watched the ladder disappear into the clouds.  He sighed. The feats he could do were a little bit...amazing.  Not that he would ever tell him that. 

                "UGH! I could have told him to leave TOWN to make up for almost killing me!" He thunked himself on the head with his open palm.  "Robbie, you really ARE a big softie," he grumbled, as he stalked back over to the entrance.

                "Now," he said, rubbing his hands together and grabbing the latch, "Let's see if things have cleared up down there." 

                FWOOSH. What must have been a cloud's worth of thick purple smoke flew upward out of the entrance hatch, right into Robbie's face, and upward toward the sky. 

                "No. No they have NOT," he observed, blinking a couple times.  "I think I will...let that AIR OUT a little," Robbie decided, making a 180 away from his mildly smoking abode and heading back toward the shed.

                He was still giddy about his talk with Sportacus.  He thought it was going to go disastrously, but somehow, he had HELPED him. ROBBIE ROTTEN had somehow HELPED the HERO. "That might have been the only plan of mine that ever worked!" He said happily, but immediately soured.  "Oh boy. THAT might have been my ONLY plan that EVER WORKED," he said, grimacing.  He sighed. "Oh, Sportacus," he said, settling into his sleeping bag.  "What am I gonna do with you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robbie has a crush on Sportacus but every time he climbs the billboard it gets stronger *We Are Number One sax solo*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robbie tries to take his mind off of Feelings with a good ol' Rotten Scheme

_"Oh, Sportacus, What am I gonna do with you?"_

                He had said it as an offhand comment, but that final question before he slept haunted him for days.

                Because when his eyes popped open the next day, he already felt the swirling in his chest.  For a moment, as his grogginess cleared away, he couldn't even figure out what it was.

                But then he remembered.

                "Oh NO!" he gasped, "I KNOW what THAT is!" he clutched at his heart.  "It's...FEELINGS," he spat venomously. "BLEH."

                He sighed, letting his shoulders drop. "Gonna be one of those days, huh?" he said, looking down to where the emotions prickled beneath his skin. "Well," he said, kicking off the sleeping bag with a grunt, "This ain't my first RODEO, cowboy! Time to get rid of YOU-" he poked at his own chest, "-with some distractions! YEE-haw!!" He feigned throwing a lasso and kicked open the shed door. "Ride em, cowboy!"  he strutted over to the latch and threw up a finger gun, "shooting" it with a "pew!"  before unlocking it like a regular person and sliding down inside, preparing to get rid of all that emotion that was writhing inside of him.

                He made some breakfast. It was still there.

                He polished his disguise tanks. It was still there.

                He swept every last inch of the floor. It was still there.

                He made a TRIPLE CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE CHIP CAKE with SEVERAL LAYERS OF FROSTING.

                It was STILL. THERE. And...was that the sugar rush, or was it getting STRONGER??

                "UUUGH!! WHY is it so BAD today?!" he demanded of himself. "At this rate, I'll be going all GA-GA if he so much as SHOWS UP!"

                Had he had days in the past where he was smitten like this? Of course! But this time it was...tenacious, hanging on long after he had exhausted his list of usual distractions. He feared it wouldn't be going away anytime soon.

                "But WHY?!" he lamented, standing up from his chair and stalking around the lair. "WHY does it feel so...so..." he waved his hands around, as if trying to grasp the elusive descriptor from the air, "PERMANENT!!"

                Something HAD changed, since the night before, and after spending a while thinking about it Robbie finally figured out what it was. Sportacus was always the paragon of STUNNING, BRILLIANT, UNFLAPPABLE CONFIDENCE. And that was why he was a great role model, or whatever. He even went along with Robbie's disguises with a twinkle in his eye that gave Robbie the impression that he knew what was happening.  But last night...while he was APOLOGIZING for putting Robbie in distress(That was still blowing his mind a little all on its own), he let Robbie see something besides that. Sportacus was UPSET. He almost CRIED. RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM. And while Robbie was NOT a fan of seeing other people upset, he understood that it...required trust, to put yourself in such a position.  It meant that Sportacus...on some level...TRUSTED Robbie Rotten.

                And Robbie was so FLATTERED. Sure he would bluster and gripe about Sportacus until the cows came home because frankly? He was REALLY annoying sometimes.  But when it got right down to it, he...trusted Sportacus too.

                But, unfortunately, that meant it was WAY harder to distract from the feelings than it had been in the past. In fact, it only made them STRONGER! The stupid part of his brain that liked to create...FANTASIES had so much more MATERIAL now!! Every time he even THOUGHT about the way he said "Thank you, Robbie" (which was...a lot more than he wanted to admit) his brain got all fuzzy and warm! So what was he to do??

                "Sportacus REALLY. Needs. To GO!" he snarled to no one. "If he's not _here,_ then _I_ can finally have peace of MIND!"

                He tapped his chin as he paced.

                "There's only one problem," he admitted, grimacing. "I DON'T have ANY IDEAS!" he said helplessly, pouting with crossed arms.

                He paced back and forth. "My ENTIRE brain is SPINNING with..." he looked around conspiratorially, and cupped a hand around his mouth,  " _feelings,"_ he whispered, then continuing at normal volume, "Instead of VILLANOUS IDEAS!"

                He looked around, desperate for a distraction that would WORK this time.

                Then he got an idea, raising a finger into the air.

                "A HA!" he practically screamed. "I'll go see what those KIDS are doing! THEY usually give me some good, NASTY ideas!" he said, giving a smirk as he ran up the steps to his periscope.

                He brought it down and surveyed Lazytown. Nobody was outside.

                "Well," he said, pursing his lips. "It's...NICE that they are being LA-ZY, but...THAT sure puts a DAMPER on my plans," he said, pulling the switch that swapped out the upper periscopes.

                "Maybe they're inside that COMPUTER BOY'S house," he said, training the periscope on Pixel's window.

                Sure enough, they were all crammed into Pixel's room.  More specifically, they were crowded around Pixel's computer, oohing and aahing at something playing on the screen.

                "Woah!"

                "Is that a pile of BRICKS?"

                "Is that one really on FIRE??"

                Robbie snorted in derision. "Bricks can't catch on FIRE," he mumbled, chuckling. "What SILLY children."

                But he was still intrigued at what on earth they could POSSIBLY be watching, so he leaned the periscope closer.  On the screen was a video of a man in a karate uniform, splintering wood and cracking bricks, letting out a shout with each strike.

                "Ugh!" he recoiled. "More ACTIVITY, even when they're being LAZY!" he said, pushing his periscope back up and stalking down the steps. "Don't they KNOW that the ONLY FUN PART of KARATE is MEDITATION??"

                He froze, and his mouth fell open as an idea struck him. "Meditation," he said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "I will TEACH them...MEDITATION," he said, as the gears in his head started turning. "AND, when they are all _qui_ etly sitting down," he enunciated every syllable through his now very-evil grin, "with their EYES CLOSED, I'll CAPTURE SPORTACUS!" he laughed. "Oh, that should do it THIS time!!" he said, clapping excitedly.

                "Okay, be cool, Robbie," he ordered, brushing his hand back through his hair. "First things first. I need to BUILD myself a TRAP!" he announced, scanning his lair for inspiration, wiggling his fingers as if they were about to snatch an idea up. Oh, this is what he WANTED, another SCHEME IDEA! So many POSSIBILITIES were running through his head! He could use his beguiling ways, he could use another sugar trap, he could also just PLUCK Sportacus out of the air-

                "YES! I have a PLAN!" he shouted, his proclamation reverberating off the walls and echoing in his own ears. He cackled as he made his way to one of his lab tables, tearing apart the place searching for blueprint paper.

                He made a drawing with sweeping, broad strokes of his pencil, singing a little tune as he went. "Let's go FISHING, for a HERO, his chances of escaping, are SURELY less than ZERO!" He paused, mid stroke. "I'm gonna have to workshop that," he said, tapping his chin with a pencil. "After this," he promised himself, going back to the drawing. "I HAVE priorities, after all."

                The fervor in which he planned his next scheme kept him going for the better part of the next three days.  He had to cannibalize a few of his previous machines to make this new one, but did that really matter? He could always just re-invent them again if he ever needed them. Because he was a GENIUS and he could DO that sort of thing.

                And his finished product was nothing less than BEAUTIFUL.

                The old van he had bought for dirt cheap over in JunkTown got a makeover: the chassis remained largely the same, but a fresh coat of paint and a carefully-painted mural of a man doing a kick on its single sliding door really...classed it up a little.  Oh, and the enormous blue canister? The one that could DEFINITELY fit a hero inside of it, the one that was welded to the back of the van where the spare tire would be? That was a new improvement too.  AND, he had carved a sunroof into the top of the van, that allowed access to the best part of his plot.

                "Yes, YES!" he marveled at his work. "Giant pincers...that could grab ANY HERO by the backpack-" he mimed plucking Sportacus right out of the air, "hoist him up," he wiggled his hand around, "and _shloop!_ Suck him right into the trap!" he said, pulling his arm close to his chest. "Oh Robbie," he said, smiling contentedly, "You have TRULY outdone yourself this time. Let's give it a little test..." he said, rubbing his hands together and then sprinting off into another of his side storage rooms.

                He lugged one of his spare sewing dummies up to the side of the van, and let it flop there in a heap.

                "Alright, let's CAPTURE!"  he said, pressing the button just on the inside of the door. The sunroof slid open, and the giant pincers plucked the dummy up into the air, and then deposited it into the blue canister.

                "And, after we've DRIVEN out of LAZYTOWN," he said, miming moving a steering wheel with his hands, complete with fake-beeping an imaginary horn,  "Release!" he pulled the lever just below the button.

                The pincers pulled the dummy out of the canister and flung it unceremoniously to the ground.

                "Eh, he'll land on his feet," Robbie dismissed, with an airy handwave. He had more important matters at hand.

                "It's DISGUISE time!"

                He ran up the stairs to the disguise machine.  He already KNEW what kind of disguise he was going to be using today. "I need...a KARATE MASTER'S uniform!" he said, and wasted no time flinging the handle down.

                He laughed as he kicked into a spin, feeling the large white garment fitting itself loosely to his body.  He slowed to a stop, his chest prickling with the delight that came from the dizzy rush, and brought down his full-length mirror.

                "Very nice," he said, inspecting the red and white bandana on his forehead, crisp white uniform and the neatly tied black belt. Well, mostly black.  At the two very ends, hanging down near his thighs, was written RR in bold purple embroidery thread.  Just for that sort of...PERSONAL touch.

                He sighed happily.  "This brings back MEMORIES," he said, and then his smile dropped. "PAINFUL. Memories," he muttered through a grimace. He pulled on the bottom of his gi jacket.

                "I haven't done ANY karate since I was twelve years old," he mused. "I can still remember how to do this, right?"

                "First: hands UP!" he said, raising his fists tensely up to his face in defense.

                "Second: FIGHTING stance!" he said, jumping into a fighting stance, left leg in front.

                "So far so good," he said, nodding sagely. "And, SWITCH sides!" he jumped into the air, landing with his right leg in front. "And SWITCH sides!" back to the left. "And switch and switch and switch and switch!" he said, jumping back and forth.

                He stopped, panting heavily from the effort. "Getting away from myself here," he admitted. "Gotta get back on track."

                "Alright, we got a PUNCH!" he threw a punch into the air. "A KICK!" he threw his leg far too high, letting out a pained gasp as his muscles protested. "MAYBE not so many kicks," he said, rubbing his strained leg muscle vigorously.

                He walked down the stairs, caught sight of his lab table, and thought, maybe ONE more final test...

                "Okay Robbie," he said, psyching himself up by rubbing his hands together. "Flying sidekick, over THAT table, GO!" he said, running forward and taking a flying leap.

                He cleared the table!

                But he, to put it delicately, did NOT stick the landing.

                CRASH.

                He landed hard, with a clang, in a pile of aluminum rods, clutching the pile of blueprint scrolls that had fallen off the table with him.

                "Maybe should have...THOUGHT THAT THROUGH," he admitted, clambering to his feet and brushing himself off.

                "But, it's FINE," he said, smiling. "Because all that _I'M_ going to do with those kids is MEDITATE, anyway.  And! While I may not be a REAL Karate master," he grinned widely, "I really AM a master at staying still and doing NO-THING," he gave a little nefarious snicker. "I NEVER need to fake THAT!"

                He laughed, a hearty, booming, VILLAINOUS laugh, and hopped into his van, driving it into the heavy machinery elevator. He had HIGH HOPES for THIS scheme.

 -

                "TRAVELLING KARATE LESSONS!" he shouted into a megaphone as he CONVENIENTLY passed Pixel's house.  Specifically, his window. "COME LEARN THE SECRETS OF MARTIAL ARTS!"

                Sure enough, like flies to honey, the door burst open and the kids flooded out, flocking to him like they always did when he put on an intriguing disguise.

                Robbie steeled himself with a deep breath. _It's time_ , he thought to himself, and stepped out of the van.

                "Well HEL-LO children!" he said, putting on his biggest smile and holding his arms out wide. "Would ANY of you be interested in KARATE LESSONS?"

                "Yeah!" they said, nearly in unison.

                "Well then, my name is...SENSEI ROBERT ROTTENKICKS!" he winced internally. He should really start pre-planning his fake names, improvisation never really worked out for him. But no matter, he steamrolled on. "And I will be teaching you the secrets to...ROTTEN-Jutsu!" Hiya!" he exclaimed, doing a wild kicking motion for emphasis.

                A general murmur of excitement came from the kids.

                "Now, LESSON ONE," he said, pacing back and forth in front of his five charges, "Is MEDITATION."

                "Meda- _who_ now?" Pixel asked in bewilderment.

                "Me-di-ta-tion," Robbie repeated.  "Meditation is the...ART of CLEARING your MIND, so you can have more ROOM in there for COOL KARATE SKILLS," he proclaimed. That's how it worked, right? Eh, as long as it sounded halfway plausible, the children would believe it.

                "Come closer," he said, bending down and beckoning to them. They gathered around, necks craned in order to hear his karate secrets.

                "Closer," he whispered, and they crowded their faces right next to his.

                "Too close!" he exclaimed, and they backed off a little, giggling.

                "Anyway. The KEY to mastering ROTTEN-JUSTU," he said, pausing for effect, "Is _MEDITATION_ ," he proclaimed in a whisper. "LOTS and LOTS of MEDITATION."

                "How do you do it?" asked Trixie in the same whisper.

                "Well I'm glad you asked," he said, pointing at her, "Because I am about to-"

                He was cut off by Sportacus flipping up to them.

                "Hey kids, what are you up to?" he asked them, fists on his hips.

                Robbie couldn't hide his smirk.

                Perfect.

                "WELL HELLO THERE, Sporta-uh-stranger!" Robbie corrected quickly, striding over to him. He flashed him a huge, friendly smile.

                Sportacus matched his friendliness with a smile of his own. "Hello, uh-" he said, looking Robbie's disguise up and down.

                "Sensei Robert Rottenkicks," Robbie said, internally cringing again. Looks like he was sticking with that name. "WOULD you like to JOIN the children and I for some...CALMING meditation? IF you're UP for it," he said.

                "Of course!" Sportacus said, grinning wide. "Sounds like a _great_ idea, just show me how to start!"

                Well, that sure was easy. "Alright, just...come over here," he said, placing a hand on Sportacus' back and leading him to within range of the pincer device. "Now stay RIGHT. HERE."

                "Okay," Sportacus agreed, nodding.

                "Don't move!" Robbie warned.

                "I won't!" Sportacus replied enthusiastically.

                Robbie smiled. "Good!"

                This was even BETTER--if Sportacus was on board, the kids always looked to him extra attentively.

                "Alright," Robbie said, walking back and forth in front of his students. "Everybody, sit on your behinds!"

                They obeyed.

                "Now, cross your legs! Criss cross applesauce! I'm looking at you, Stinky."

                "It's Stingy!"

                "Whatever. Put your HANDS on your KNEES!"

                They did.

                "Close your eyes!"

                They did.

                "Now breathe in," he inhaled, "breathe out," he exhaled, "and re- _lax_ COMPLETELY," he said, conclusively.

                Stingy popped one eye open. "Isn't this just sleeping while sitting?" he asked suspiciously.

                Robbie put his hands on his hips. "I'm _sorry,"_ he said in his best condescending voice, "Are YOU a karate master?"

                "No," the child replied.

                " _Have_  you ever worn these...swishy pants?" he grabbed his own pant legs and waggled them back and forth.

                "No," Stingy said again.

                "Do YOU have a stylish bandana such as this one?" Robbie asked, pointing at his own forehead.

                "No."

                "Have you ever studied ROTTEN-JUTSU under Elder Grandmaster Harold HighKicks??" Robbie said, desperately inventing another name.

                "Can't say that I have," Stingy said thoughtfully.

                "Have you EVER done anything like THIS?!" he windmilled his arms around and threw a leg up in the air, straining something in his back. "Hi-YAH," he said in a strangled voice.

                "Um, no," Stingy said.

                "I've NEVER done THAT before!" Ziggy cried.

                "Well then, be quiet kid," Robbie concluded.  Stingy closed his eyes again.

                Robbie chanced a glance at Sportacus.  He was actually doing an excellent job of staying still, considering he was...completely unable to most of the time. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was quirked as if he was trying to suppress a smile.

                "C'mon, when do we get to break boards?! I wanna break boards!!" Trixie complained from her sitting position.

                "Not yet, my students," he said, quickly, setting himself carefully on the ground with everyone else. "For now, we must CLEAR our MINDS."

                "Stay still," Robbie instructed, yawning wide. "Just like this." he blinked slowly a few times. "And don't...think about...anything..." he trailed off, his body slumping involuntarily, carrying him into sleep before he knew it.

-

                When he awoke, everyone was gone!

                "Oh no!" he jerked his head left, right. "No kids! And NO SPORTACUS!" he gasped through gritted teeth. "I've MISSED the OPPORTUNITY!" he lamented, grabbing his own face.

                "That was a GREAT meditation session, Sensei Rottenkicks!" Sportacus said cheerily from behind him, startling Robbie. "VERY relaxing. I've sent the kids off to go play now."

                Before Robbie could even think of a response, Sportacus' crystal beeped and his face switched from cheerful to the familiar mix of surprise and concern.

                "Someone's in _trouble!"_ he said, just like he did every single time. "Gotta go!" he said to Robbie, vaulting directly over his head and landing on his feet, sprinting off in the direction of city hall.

                Robbie grumbled.  Well, he couldn't let ONE failed plot get him down, there was still time to salvage the situation, if he was resourceful and flexible.  Maybe he would just get the kids to quiet down some, and capture Sportacus whenever he caught the opportunity. Flexibility and resourcefulness made a small plot go a long way, after all.  So, he got off the ground with renewed purpose, and walked around the wall to where he could hear the kids discussing...something or other.

                "No, no, no," he said, rounding the wall, "we must meditate some MORE-" his mouth fell open at the scene before him, and he let out something that was between a gasp and a shriek.  "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?"

                Alarming thing number one: Stephanie was holding, with both of her hands, a SAWED OFF TWO BY FOUR, WHERE DID SHE GET THAT??

                Alarming thing number two: Trixie was standing in a fighting stance right in front of it.

                Alarming thing number three: Pixel, looking back and forth from his tablet, showing a video of a black belt doing a board break, to the scene, and NODDING.

                Alarming thing number four: ZIGGY WAS-actually, Ziggy was doing fine. He and Stingy were just standing and watching.

                Alarming thing number five: SPORTACUS. NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. TO STOP THE MADNESS.

                "Pixel found a video on the internet that showed a karate master breaking a board!" Trixie said, her three pigtails bouncing in excitement. "It looks pretty easy, so I'm gonna try it!"

                " **NO YOU'RE NOT!** " he yelled, leaping forward and slapping the heavy two-by-four out of Stephanie's hands, landing painfully on the ground in the process.

                "Hey!" she protested.

                Robbie got off the ground and brushed himself off, suddenly getting an idea. "If you're GONNA break SOMETHING," he said, "I _think_ I have-hold on a moment," he said, as he prepared for a mad dash to his van.

                But he froze, and looked back at the children, and then down to the heavy chunk of wood on the ground.

                "On second thought-I'm not letting ANY of you out of my sight. Follow me," he said, striding around the wall.  The kids didn't move. He poked his head back around the wall. "Come on, come on, I don't have all day!" he said irritably, motioning with his hands, and this time they followed suit.

                "Let's see, is it still in here?" he said to himself, as he rummaged through the junk in his van. "Yes, here it is!"

                He whirled around toward the children again. "I think you'll find that THIS is more...your SPEED," he said, brandishing the "board" at them.

                Trixie narrowed her eyes and poked at it. "Isn't this just a big piece of styrofoam?"

                "I'm sorry, can you show me your BLACK BELT, please?" Robbie requested sarcastically.

                "I don't-I don't have one," she said, a bit confused.

                "DIDN'T think so," he said smugly. "It's called STARTING SMALL," he said, enunciating his words carefully and pinching his finger and thumb together. "I'll let you break REAL wood when you SHOW ME your BLACK BELT."

                She considered for a moment, and then nodded in acquiescence. "Okay."

                Robbie knelt down on one knee, so he was only about an inch taller than her.

                "NOW," he said, settling and holding up the board. "Show me what you got, Loud Girl."

                Trixie tucked her thumb into her fist, and raised it high behind her. Immediately, a horrible memory flashed across Robbie's mind.

                "STOP!" he yelled in a panic. She froze.

                "Don't you KNOW that you'll BREAK your THUMB if you punch that way??" he scolded, and then cleared his throat. "Don't ask me how I know that."

                She inspected her fist, and brought her thumb out of it.

                "Put it...right..." he mumbled, pushing her thumb around her fingers into the right position. "OKAY! Now you're good."

                Trixie raised her fist again and started to bring it down and forward, wrist bent backwards.

                "WAIT!" he yanked the board away.

                She froze again. "What is it THIS time?" she said, impatiently.

                "STRAIGHT wrist, punch with your KNUCKLES," he said, delicately repositioning her arm so the proper knuckles were facing the board. "Or you're going to break your FINGERS this time!" he looked around, and gulped. "Again--don't ask me how I know that."

                He shook himself free of the memory. "Okay. Now, NO _funny business_ with your wrist," he waggled his own fist limply. "NONE of that. Just go like THIS," he moved her arm back and forth, so she could get a feel for the motion, and went back to holding the styrofoam piece.

                "OKAY," he sighed, satisfied that she wouldn't hurt herself. "NOW, you can try. Go for it."

                She let loose, punching straight through the styrofoam board. It split in half, and her entire face lit up.

                "I DID IT!!!" she squealed, jumping up and down in a very un-Trixie-like display of pure joy.

                "Cool, I wanna try!" Ziggy yelled.

                "Me too!" Stephanie exclaimed.

                "Count me in!" Pixel said, tablet long forgotten.

                "That board.  Is MINE," Stingy said, nodding along.

                Robbie often wondered, how did his life take such dramatic turns? One minute he was trying to salvage a scheme, the next he was holding increasingly smaller styrofoam bits for the children to smash with their continually-corrected fists.

                And honestly? he wasn't too upset about it. It brought back some good memories of when he was around their age, doing exactly the same thing.  And strangely enough, instead of being obnoxious, their joy was more...infectious. He found himself smiling more often than not--which had the downside of seriously hurting his face muscles.

                He WOULD get around to capturing Sportacus, because that was still the main goal here, but...maybe in a few minutes.

                After a little while, the children had splintered all the styrofoam into flecks of foamy snow, and were stomping the remaining bits into the concrete.

                "One more, Sensei Rottenkicks? PLEASE??" Trixie pleaded.

                "Let me...check," he said, getting up laboriously and walking back over to his van. "I KNOW there's another one in here SOMEWHERE," he muttered as he rummaged.

                As he pushed various bits of junk out of the way, his elbow accidentally brushed up against a button.

                THE button.

                The roof of the van slid open, and the sound of hydraulics was all Robbie could hear before-

                SNATCH!

                He was snatched up by his own trap!

                Robbie hung there for a moment, suspended by a gigantic pair of blue pincers, just long enough to regret every decision he had ever made.

                IN HIS LIFE.

                "AAAAHHHH!!" he screamed as he was sucked backwards, and dumped into the holding capsule attached to the back of the van.

                "Sensei Rottenkicks!"

                "Are you okay in there?"

                He sighed. "I'm fine," he called from inside. "I'm just...STUCK."

                "Kids!" came Sportacus' voice. "Where's the karate instructor?"

                "He's in THERE!" Trixie said, in distress.

                "Oh, I hope he's not hurt!" Ziggy gasped, worriedly.

                Robbie was indeed, unhurt. He didn't want to INJURE Sportacus in his attempts to capture him.  But he was certainly...embarrassed. Embarrassed and disappointed that he had gotten himself stuck into his own trap AGAIN.

                He sighed, and rested his chin in his palm. Much as he loved it, he had a feeling that he just...wasn't very GOOD at this villain thing.

                "Don't worry, I got it!" Sportacus was saying from outside.  Robbie didn't know what he was doing, but he could hazard a guess. By the sound of the whooshing and the thumps of his weird blue boots on the ground, he was probably doing a bunch of flips. Robbie scoffed. That was SO unnecessary. Maybe he would pick up one of those styrofoam flecks to pick the lock.  He smiled despite himself. Oh what he'd give to see that, Sportacus trying to spring the trap open by throwing handfuls of broken styrofoam at it.  Knowing Sportacus, it would probably WORK, too.

                But, no, Sportacus had apparently figured out the release mechanism relatively quickly, because the blue pincers snapped him back out again into the bright sunlight, dropping him from 8 feet in the air.

                Directly into Sportacus' arms.

                "Are you alright?" Sportacus asked, very seriously.  He had caught him effortlessly, and Robbie had just as effortlessly (and thoughtlessly) slipped an arm around his neck to hold himself up better.

                _Oh, no._ Robbie thought as he gulped. He may have made this scheme to distract himself from those feelings, but being in Sportacus' arms was...quite the stark reminder.

                "I'm fine, put me down!" Robbie spluttered, blushing slightly as he let go of the back of Sportacus' uniform. 

                As he found his feet again, the knot behind his head loosened and the bandana fell off.

                "ROBBIE ROTTEN!!" all the kids chorused. As usual.

                "Yeah, yeah, I know," Robbie said, flushing more.

                "Now kids, remember," Sportacus lectured, as Robbie slinked back to his van, "You must ALWAYS start small if you want to develop a skill.  Nobody can become a karate master by watching ONE video."

                "It just looked so...easy..." Trixie mumbled.

                "The mark of a _true_ master is that he can make difficult and dangerous things look _very_ easy.  You all know that I never learned any of my sports stunt moves in one day, right? So why would it be different for this?"

                Pixel sighed. "You're right, Sportacus." The rest of the kids murmured their embarrassed agreements as well.

                "You are all very lucky that Robbie was here to help you," he admonished, making Robbie freeze in his tracks. "Or you could have _seriously_ damaged yourselves."

                "Yeah, even thought that was Robbie Rotten the whole time...that was FUN!" Ziggy squealed.

                "Yeah!" The others chorused in agreement.

                "Cmon guys, let's go play!" Stephanie said, and they all followed her.

                Except Trixie.

                Trixie was approaching Robbie, cautiously.

                "Do you, uh...need something, child?" Robbie asked, unsure how to handle this unusual interaction.

                "Robbie Rotten," she said slowly, "Do you REALLY do karate?"   

                "Huh? No, no, not anymore," he admitted. "But I USED to, you know, when I was little."

                "So THAT'S how you knew how to punch the right way! Could you teach me?" She said, bouncing in excitement again.

                "I...hardly remember anything, kid. That was a LONG time ago."

                "Oh, she said, clearly disappointed. "Well...will you hold another board for me?"

                "Sure, why not," he said, looking inside his van again.  The other styrofoam board he had been searching for when it all went wrong had been UNDERNEATH the control panel that whole time.

                He sighed. "It FIGURES," he mumbled quietly, rolling his eyes.  He turned around, and held the board out.

                "This is the LAST board," Robbie said, tossing it from hand to hand. "And I think that means we have to do something SPECIAL with it."

                Trixie's mouth dropped open. "Like what??" she asked, in awe and anticipation.

                He wracked his brain, trying to conjure up something clear from all his fuzzy martial arts memories.

                "Oh! I GOT it!" he said, holding the board flat like a serving tray, and kneeling down in front of Trixie.

                "Okay. This time...you bring your leg up-" he demonstrated by moving his hand up, "and DROP it, HEEL FIRST, into the board," he said, doing an air chop with his hand.

                She furrowed her brow in puzzlement, lifting her leg tentatively and putting it down again.

                "Yes, like that. Now do it, Loud Girl, so I can clean up."

                She hesitated for a moment, then swung her leg up, and down, hard.

                SNAP!

                "NICE one!" he outbursted, despite himself, holding his hand up for a high five. She slapped his hand HARD, and the two of them shared a moment of happiness.

                "Trixie! Where'd you go?" Stephanie was calling.

                "Oh, I gotta go, but THANK you, Robbie Rotten!" she said, running off.

                "Y-you're welcome," he called after her.

                He watched her go, then started the task of picking up all the styrofoam he had dropped.

                "There is a FIRE in that one's eyes," he said to himself, rubbing the hand she had just high-fived. "SHE needs to start karate."

                "I agree," came Sportacus' voice from behind him. He whirled around.

                "SPORTA-" he started in surprise.

                "I think the martial arts would do her good," Sportacus said, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against and walking a bit closer to Robbie. "She really needs a healthy outlet for her sometimes..." he seemed to be searching for the right way to put it, "destructive energy."

                Robbie snorted. "Destructive is RIGHT," he said, recalling her many "pranks" that mostly revolved around destruction or defacing of town property. "Ya hit the nail RIGHT on the head, Sportaflop." He flashed him a thumbs up to emphasize this.

                He was JUST resuming his task of styrofoam pick up, when-

                "Oh and uh...Robbie?"

                RObbie seized up at the way Sportacus had just said his name. Tentative.

                "Thanks for...for covering for me."

                _COVERING FOR ME??_

                He whirled around for the second time that day-no, the second time that CONVERSATION-to gaze in disbelief at Sportacus.

                "I'm serious!" he said sincerely, holding his arms out.  "My-my crystal, it went off for them-" he gestured at where the children had gone, "- _right_ as the mayor fell off the roof of City Hall. They could have _seriously_ hurt themselves, while I was saving him. I'm glad you _got_ there when you did," he said, giving a shaky smile and patting his heart. "Whew," he exhaled, mimicking his earlier relief by looking into the middle distance for a moment.

                He snapped out of it when his crystal blared again, and he clapped Robbie on the back.  "See ya!" he said, and took a running leap over the nearest low wall.

                This all just confused Robbie more than ever.

-

                "Well," he said, once safely back in his lair, surrounded by the familiar smell of coolant and the sound of hydraulics, "THAT sure went differently from my...expectations." he sighed, and crossed his arms. "WHY can't things just-just WORK OUT for me?!" he demanded. "I go UP there to kick SPORTACUS out of TOWN, but instead? I become a BABYSITTER!"  he moaned.

                But his rant felt a little...halfhearted this time.  Because much as he didn't want to admit it, he really did have fun up there, letting the kids break the styrofoam into little pieces.  And Trixie had even approached him when he was UNDISGUISED. 

                And SPORTACUS.  Robbie's heart picked up a little. This scheme had completely and UTTERLY failed in distracting him from his feelings, but damn it all, it was NICE to hear Sportacus thank him for helping the kids. And...he was secretly relieved that he had stopped them from breaking their hands on that wooden board, too.  Much as he thought they were annoying, he really didn't want anything BAD to happen to the little brats.

                "Well, my FACE HURTS from SMILING," he grumbled, rubbing his sore cheeks. "So I'm NOT gonna do THAT again."

 -

                But even so, a couple weeks later, when he saw Trixie downright SKIPPING off to her first karate class, her blindingly white uniform on, crisp new white belt in her hand, he did feel...something. Something like...pride.

                "Go get 'em, Loud Girl," he muttered, giving an approving nod to her retreating form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Karate train your body all the time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJSZ1TwjcsQ)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the billboard is back, and Robbie finds out Sportacus' secret...

                It had been approximately three weeks since the Sensei Rottenkicks fiasco.

                And Robbie was COMPLETELY out of ideas.

                He TRIED, of course. He tinkered a bit, he got some new parts he'd been eyeing from the Inventors Catalogue, but they all sat in pieces.

                Okay, maybe some were in a few MORE pieces than others.  His Hit-It-With-A-Hammer-Until-It-Makes-Sense method usually had a...surprisingly high success rate.

                But, not this time.

                "I should have known better than to FORCE it," he grumbled, putting his hammer back down. "If I want the- MWAH!" he kissed his own fingers, like an Italian chef. " -GOOD STUFF, I have to wait for..." he windmilled an arm a few times, then threw it straight up, pointing at the ceiling, "IN-SPIRATION TO STRIKE!" he exclaimed, voice booming off the walls.

                Despite his VERY CLEAR CLUE, inspiration was...NOT striking. His thunderstorm of creativity was more like a bone-dry desert in the summer, and had been for weeks.

                So, WHAT was occupying his time and 90% of his brainpower instead, during this creative dearth? Why, his feelings for SPORTACUS, of course!

                HOW!! FANTASTIC!!!

                "I don't WANT this!" he complained, falling backwards and slumping into his chair. "I WISH I KNEW what would MAKE it go AWAY!" he said, sniffling a little. "It's JUST. SO-"

 _Lonely._  

                "-BORING," he decided, "down here when I just have a CRUSH and no SCHEMES!" He shuddered a little bit. Some things were just too...pathetic to say out loud.

                "Now, you can be SURE," he assured his surroundings, "that I would STOP this if I COULD. But I just can't. Stop. THINKING ABOUT HIM!" he said, gritting his teeth harder and harder and throwing wilder and wilder gestures into the air with each word. "He's just so..." he dragged his hand down his face as he searched for the word. Annoying? Distracting? the BANE of Robbie's EXISTENCE??

                "CUTE!" he exploded angrily, then slapped a hand over his mouth, shooting bolt upright in his chair.

                He gagged and thrashed wildly, frantically trying to wipe the... _grossness_ of what he just said off of him like so many spiders crawling on his skin. "SWEET MERCY," he said, face still screwed up in disgust and horror. "I can't BELIEVE that I just SAID that! OUT LOUD!" he sharply gasped, looking around for any witnesses.

                None. PHEW.

                He sat back again, letting out a long, guttural groan that started out as an expression of self-pity, but ended up turning into a loud snarl of frustration at the end.

                "AUGH! I just want to make something EXPLODE!" he growled, rocking himself up and out of the chair. "And preferably?" he said, holding up his index finger, "NOT my- _self_. But..." he conceded, grabbing at his hair. "I'm FLEXIBLE at this point!"

                He froze, hands still tangled in his own hair as he felt the vague tendrils of a plan wrapping around his brain, like smoke.  He grasped at them before they could fully convalesce into anything meaningful, leaving him with just a single concept.

                He threw his hands out like he was pitching the IDEA of the CENTURY.

"EX- _PLOD_ ING SPORTS- _CANDY_!" he exclaimed grandly, throwing himself into a spin and stopping with his hands out, as if presenting his idea to a huge crowd.

                "But, no plan to go ALONG with it..." he frowned, flitting his eyes from side to side.

                "Eh," he dismissed, "I'll figure that part out later."

                He picked up a pencil, and rummaged for some scrap paper. "At LEAST I have SOMETHING to DO!!"

                He flipped his pencil up in the air for emphasis, and fumbled trying to catch it--stabbing his palm in the process. "AGH!" he hissed, holding his palm with the other hand. "That...TOTALLY didn't hurt!" he squeaked, shaking out the hand as he scribbled with the other.

                So he spent, oh, who knows HOW long, preparing this single idea, because by God, it was ALL HE HAD. He grabbed some old pieces of cardboard, and then searched through blueprint after blueprint of his old plans, picking and choosing the features that he liked the best. 

                "It needs...a chute!" he grabbed the blueprints from his cannon.

"It needs...an injector!" he said, grabbing the plans from his first sugar-apple machine.

"It needs," he said, adjusting how he was carrying everything and picking up another piece of paper, "Some BREAD and EGGS! " He stopped. "Bread...and eggs?" he said in disbelief. "Oh, never MIND," he smiled and closed his eyes, shaking his head and chuckling gently. " _That's_ my SHOPPING list."

"What it REALLY needs is..." he said savagely, "a HAMMER."  He dumped his materials unceremoniously on the floor, and picked up one of his most hefty hammers.  
"Oh, this is going to feel GREAT," he said, giving it a great swing.

WHAM!

-

After he built a few rough prototypes out of the cardboard(supplying the explosion noises himself, of course), he felt like he had his brain fully wrapped around the idea.  From there, it was really quite simple to slap something together out of more...durable materials.

                It was NOT a finished product, by any means, but it would get the job done--it would work well enough to start TESTING the explosives, at least.

                Robbie ran over to the storage closet where he kept the... _particularly_ powerful stuff, and flung open the sliding door. A veritable CASCADE of volatile compounds, bags of flammable material, and cases of  pyrotechnics poured down upon him, burying him.

                He popped his head out of the pile, then the rest of his body, patting himself down, feeling the familiar relief of facing potential death and coming out unscathed.

                “Phew,” he sighed.

                He tapped his chin in thought. “I should REALLY find a different method of...STORING THESE,” he said, lifting a box of firecrackers and tossing them over his shoulder.  “Eh. Later. Because LOOK what I FOUND!” He exclaimed, lifting his left elbow and revealing an enormous bag of his own brand of explosive gunpowder.

                “ _Rotten_ powder!” he squealed, grabbing the top of it and yanking it free from the rest of the pile. Slowly, he dragged the 50-pound bag across the floor to the machine.

                "Alright!" he said, finally letting go and rubbing his hands together.  "I got PLENTY here to-" he paused, looking around his lair.

                "You KNOW," he said thoughtfully, stalking in a full circle around his new machine, "The LAST time I worked on something that I wanted to _explode_ -" he stopped, a frown pulling at the edge of his mouth. "on PURPOSE, that is," he amended, continuing to walk, "I almost...caved in this ENTIRE PLACE!" He jerked his head around, looking from the whirring hydraulics, to the refrigerator, to the DISGUISE TANKS, to his augmented chemistry set--these were all things he did NOT want to become a smoldering pile of ash.

                "Better SAFE than SORRY, I always say," he shuddered, then pursed his lips. "THAT...was a lie.” he admitted. “I have NEVER said that. But I'm GOING to NOW!" he promised.  "I'm going to go test this...OUTSIDE," he said, getting behind the machine and pushing it with all his might.

                He pushed, and pushed, and strained, and grunted, but the only thing he accomplished was making HIMSELF all SWEATY.

                "On second thought," he said, panting from exertion, "I'm going to install some WHEELS first."

 

                Robbie giggled a little bit, as he rode the machinery elevator all the way up to the surface, feeling quite...proud of himself actually.  He had actually had FORESIGHT to PREVENT a DISASTER! He usually NEVER thought of anything like that until it had already happened!

                He had often called himself a genius, but this was the SMARTEST he had EVER felt.

-

                When he and his machine had reached the surface level, Robbie was quite surprised to see that it was nighttime. Since he spent so much of his time underground, blocking out the world, he was often...taken aback when night (or day) snuck up on him.

                He then glanced at the billboard, looming in the cool darkness.  It occurred to Robbie that he hadn't been up there since...well since the smoke bomb incident.

                "Maybe that means I'm getting BETTER at this!" he said, clapping his hands together, and wheeling his device to the open area around the front of the billboard.

                "Okay!" he said, sighing heavily, adjusting the heavy sack of powder sitting in the device like some sort of destructive water cooler.  

                "Now, we will START. SMALL," he promised, clicking the Powder Level click wheel one single click.  

                A (not very small) part of him knew that throwing that dial to maximum, all at once, would bring about the BEST and most SATISFYING clicking noise-

                "No! No!" he admonished himself, squeezing his eyes shut, "This is about SAFETY! SAFETY. _FIRST_!"

                So he reluctantly pried his hand away from the wheel, and clicked the Speed dial a single click, having the exact same mental struggle a second time.

                "Okay, that should be...SAFE enough for a first try!" he said, throwing the red master power switch on the top, and waited with bated breath.

                Puff.

                The tiniest, most adorable puff of smoke that Robbie had ever seen popped out of the exit tube.

                It was distinctly...NOT satisfying.

                "Oh COME on," he said in annoyance, clicking the Powder Level a couple more clicks.

                Poof!

                Progress! _This_ time it was powerful enough to RELEASE the sports-candy shaped mesh bag out of the chute, which popped open--releasing THREE WHOLE SPARKS THIS TIME.

                "Aw, REALLY?!" Robbie whined. "I WANT to see something EXPLODE!!"

                In a fit of anger, he grabbed both of the click wheels, one in each hand, and FLUNG them both to maximum, his brain TINGLING with how GOOD the clicking noises felt to his ears.  It had been a LONG day and he JUST wanted to SEE some EXPLOSIONS! He wanted SOMETHING to go RIGHT!

                It did NOT disappoint.

                BLAM!

                A huge fireball missed Robbie by approximately three inches.

                "Eep!" he squeaked, throwing himself backwards and landing hard at the base of the billboard.

                The fireballs were shooting out at a furious pace, almost like a fireworks display, but horizontal-and about a foot off the ground.

                BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.

                Every explosion sent a kickback through the machine, and its new wheel attachments (Robbie thunked himself on the head) changed the machine's angle and trajectory a little each time.

That meant, there was no way to tell which direction the next fireball was going to go, until it came WHIZZING OUT.

                Robbie ducked behind the billboard, and climbed it without a second thought.

                "Well, at least I didn't allow for...VERTICAL MOBILITY," he said, shuddering.

                He was so busy watching the fireballs (and wincing every time they hit something) from his higher vantage point that he downright JUMPED OUT OF HIS SKIN when he heard Sportacus' voice right next to him.

                "What's happening, Robbie?"

                "AH!-oh, _hello_ Sporty," he said, relaxing. "It's...well it's an invention gone wrong," he glumly admitted, watching another fireball let loose.

                "Not supposed to shoot fireballs, huh?" Sportacus asked, sympathetically.

                "Well...sort of, but...not _really_ ," he sighed, dejectedly.  "I...just wasn't CAREFUL enough."

                Sportacus nodded, and patted Robbie on the shoulder. "It's alright."

                "See the bag sitting up on the machine?" Robbie pointed.

                "Uh-huh."

                "Well, it's about fifty pounds of PURE explosive powder, and even with each ball injected with the MAXIMUM amount-which they DEFINITELY are-that's still only-" he calculated in his head, and gave up with a sigh. "Oh, I HATE doing math. It just means that...we MIGHT be UP here for a while."

                "Why didn't you turn it off while you were down there?" Sportacus asked.

                "And get myself KILLED in the PROCESS??" Robbie asked, scandalized.  As if on cue, a fireball hit the billboard, shaking it slightly and prompting Robbie to grasp the light fixture for stability. "I didn't KNOW it would be a PROBLEM, SportaFLOP, until there were FIREBALLS,” he snapped. “And THEN all I was thinking was 'No! No way! I am NOT dying TONIGHT!" he proclaimed, waggling his finger back and forth. "And, so you KNOW, I am NOT going DOWN there again until it STOPS!" he said.

                But the words were barely out of his mouth when the machine just...stopped. Robbie peered down at it.

                "Well. _That_ was fast," he said, shrugging. "Odd, though, that the bag has only deflated halfway..."

                Sportacus, however, was looking down at his crystal, which was still blinking and beeping.

                "Something's not _right_ ," he said apprehensively, joining Robbie in looking at the machine.

                Sure enough, the machine started vibrating. Just a low hum, but the way it sounded made both of them stiffen and look at each other.

                " _That_ sounds, uh..." Sportacus trailed off.

                " _BAD_ ," Robbie finished, nodding.

                Sportacus furrowed his brows. "Okay. Robbie," he asked, with the air of certainty of a man who was making a plan. "You said earlier that you put FIFTY POUNDS of gunpowder in to fuel this machine?"

                "NO!" Robbie exclaimed, offended.

                "No?"

                "THAT down THERE is ROTTENpowder," he said smugly, "My own SPECIAL brand of gunpowder, it's FAR more powerful tha-" he cut off at the look on Sportacus' face, he was downright PALE.

                "Okay, _Rotten-_ powder, that's not what I-the _point_ is," he said, shaking his head, "If the _whole thing_ blows, couldn't it take out the _entire_ billboard? Including US??"

                A pit of fear dropped into Robbie's stomach. "I...never thought of THAT," he said, slowly.

                "We've got to _stop_ it," Sportacus said decisively, grabbing onto his ladder and starting to descend toward the grumbling invention.

                "I'll just, uh, wait here then!" Robbie called, giving Sportacus a thumbs up.

                He dropped the hand into his lap. "UGH!" he exclaimed. "I only wanted a little EXPLOSION! Not another NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE on this DAMN BILLBOARD!"

                Sportacus froze in his descent. "Robbie, what is this machine FOR?"

                "I can't TELL you THAT," Robbie said, annoyed. "It'll RUIN the SCHEME!"

                Sportacus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The vibrating kicked up a notch.

                "Is it SUPPOSED to explode?!" he asked, a bit more exasperated.

                Robbie thought for a moment. "Sort of?"

                "Rob-BIE!" Sportacus said urgently, as the machine let out a truly awful sputter and started to smoke.

                "Okay, okay, it's not SUPPOSED to be doing THAT," he admitted, pointing at the ever-increasing cloud of grey smoke pouring out of the machine.

                "THANK you," Sportacus said exasperatedly, as he was swallowed up by the rapidly expanding fog.

                "Sportacus?" Robbie called, peering down.

                His head popped back out.

                "Where's-" he coughed, "Where's the off switch, I can't see!"

                Robbie paused for a microsecond "I-"

                " _ROBBIE_!"

                "OKAY _FINE_! IT'S A BIG RED _LEVER_ , ON THE TOP NEAR THE BAG OF POWDER, YOU CAN'T MISS IT," Robbie yelled down, over the whining of the malfunctioning invention.

                Sportacus nodded once, then climbed up a little higher, looking up to his airship.

                "Bat! Lime!" he called, and a baseball bat and a single lime fell out of the airship, falling towards Sportacus.

                Before Robbie could even COMMENT on the ridiculousness of his request, Sportacus had jumped OFF his LADDER, CAUGHT the LIME and the BAT in MIDAIR, and did some sort of FLIPPITY FLIPPITY JUMPING BACK FLIP TWIST in the dark, lit only by his flashing crystal like a FLYING SPORTS DISCO BALL.

                At the apex of Sportacus' jump, SMACK! Robbie heard the distinctive sound of a piece of fruit being slammed by a metal bat (Ugh, why did he KNOW that sound so WELL??) , and Sportacus was freefalling into the smoky fogbank.

                Robbie impulsively reached out for him with one arm. There was no POSSIBLE way that could have worked!

                But just as he thought that--everything stopped.  The vibrating, sputtering, fizzing, all gone.  The smoke cleared away, revealing the now-inert machine, the lime rolling away into the darkness, and Sportacus, coughing.

                Robbie sat, slackjawed.

                It WORKED.

                Sportacus surveyed his work, and then climbed back up his ladder, hopping onto the billboard and smiling at Robbie.

                "Alright!" he said, cheerfully, brushing his hands off. "Would you like to get down?"

                Robbie looked at the town's hero, and then back at his machine, and back again, mouth moving wordlessly.

                " _How_ do you always DO that?!" Robbie demanded, once he found his voice.

                Sportacus looked taken aback. "Do what?"

                "You ALWAYS know how to solve EVERY situation!" Robbie exclaimed, in frustration. " _HOW_  could you know, within THREE seconds, that if you hit a LIME-" he broke off, choking on the sheer ridiculousness of it, "-a _LIME_ , SportaFLOP!- with the BASEBALL BAT at that EXACT angle after doing that EXACT amount of backflips or WHATEVER that it would fly DIRECTLY into the machine at EXACTLY the right time and place!! EXACTLY!!"

                Robbie let his arms flop down from their wild gesticulations and sighed. "Meanwhile...I can't even TEST my OWN INVENTION without ENDANGERING myself somehow.  It just. Isn't. FAIR," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

                "Oh Robbie, don't _worry_ about it," Sportacus said encouragingly. "I'm-" he broke off, and started again. "Well, I-" he laughed nervously. "I'm just-you know what they say!" he said, struggling for words. "Slightly...above average," he said weakly, trailing off. He sighed, looking out at the moon as if for answers.

                "Okay," he muttered quietly, sitting down on the top of the sign next to Robbie.

                Robbie turned his head to look at him, cautiously.  Was this another... _emotional_ thing?

                "Robbie, the truth is...I, uh," he hesitated, one hand tentatively touching the side of his head.

                Robbie waited with bated breath.  This was something _IMPORTANT,_ he could _FEEL_ it, but what could it POSSIBLY be?

                "I'm not...exactly...human," Sportacus said with finality, slowly slipping off his cap.  His always hidden ears, long and slender to a defined point, slipped free, twitching in the moonlight. _Oh,_ Robbie thought. _Well, that confirms the elf theory._  He wasn't surprised by that. Number NINE had been an elf, so why wouldn't Number TEN be? No, no, the REAL surprise for ROBBIE was-

                "You're-you're _BLONDE?_ " he gasped in disbelief, putting a hand to his chest as the soft, golden curls spilled free as well.  Robbie was VERY lucky that he had forced the word BLONDE out because the one his brain was currently SPINNING with was...GORGEOUS. The full picture of Sportacus, his golden hair falling about his pointed ears, Robbie could only wonder what it would LOOK like in the SUNLIGHT...his cheeks felt hot.

                Yeah. GORGEOUS was _definitely_ the unspoken word implicit in his wide-eyed stare.

                Luckily, Sportacus didn't seem to notice that.

                " _That's_ what you're shocked by?" he was asking, shaking his head (Robbie let out a stifled choking noise) and chuckling a little, but otherwise looking quite...shy? Nervous? Either way, he looked a far cry from the usual confident hero.  Robbie was not the best reader of facial expressions, far from it, but he looked...vulnerable.

                "W-well," Robbie said, clearing his throat and composing himself, "ALL this time, I thought your hair was...short, and brown, like the...visible parts," he stretched an arm out and wiggled his fingers near the bottom of his ear, before snapping it back. "I already KNEW you were an elf."

                Sportacus' jaw dropped. He looked ACTUALLY flabbergasted, something quite rare for Robbie to see.

                 "Y-you-" he stuttered, touching an ear. "You already _knew??_ " he asked finally, his voice cracking on the last word. " _How?"_

                "Well, I didn't KNOW, ex- _actly_ ," Robbie admitted.  "But! I made what you would call an...EDUCATED guess.  I was around for Number Nine, you know.  And HE was VERY proud of his..." he shuddered in disgust. "Elfishness," he spat, face darkening as he remembered the previous hero of Lazytown. "He NEVER. STOPPED. _TALKING_ about it!!"

                He waved his arms around jerkily, remembering the other elf with his loud, obnoxious voice, which he imitated the best he could.

 _"Ég er ÍÍÍÍÍþróttaálfurinn!!"_ he mimicked, pitching his voice up higher, a grin stretched far too wide. " _Sérðu álfa sitja'og gera 'ekki neitt_??" he scolded some imaginary child, other hand on his hip.  
"" _álfanna fyrirmynd sjálf!!! þú finnur el fimari álf_!!" he continued, bouncing and waving his arms around, throwing in a couple _whooshing_ noises for good measure.

                He RELISHED being able to speak in his native language again.  Robbie LOVED speaking English, and how it made his voice sound so...BOOMING and VILLAINOUS, but...oh, speaking Icelandic to another person, even if it was calling up memories of that annoying elf, was like coming _home_.

                Sportacus just blinked a couple times, but didn't interrupt.

                "Ugh, the ANNOYING part wasn't even the ELF part! It was that he was ALWAYS so BOSSY!" Robbie continued his rant in English, which reminded him-

                "And ANOTHER thing," he said, holding his finger up in the air, "he hardly EVER spoke English! He would just...YELL at us about EXERCISING, and ‘ _ííííþróttanammi’_ , and EATING RAW FISH in Icelandic!" Robbie gagged a little, but continued on. "He TERRIFIED the younger kids, and so they all flocked to ME, always asking for a TRANSLATION for everything he SAID! _'What did he say Robbie? What did he SAY Robbie?!_ '" he imitated a little kid's whining.

                Robbie broke off, panting. "At least YOU make the EFFORT, SportaKOOK."

                Sportacus smiled a little, seemingly unbothered by the personal attacks on his predecessor, but then narrowed his eyes in confusion.  "Wait, wait. That was Icelandic. _You_ speak _Icelandic??"_

                Robbie rolled his eyes, ready to reply that yes, he COULD still speak his OWN NATIVE LANGUAGE, what do you TAKE him for?? But the now-confirmed-elf's face showed only bewilderment, and his reply died in his throat.

                "S-sportacus, that's my FIRST LANGUAGE," he said slowly. "I was BORN in Iceland!"

                "Really? So was I! Although my first language is Elvish, not Icelandic, I can still-"

                Robbie held up both hands. "I-I _know,"_  he smiled awkwardly, searching for answers in Sportacus' face. "I could always _hear_ it in your-" he broke off as a thought struck him,brows furrowing.  Was this elf _playing_ with him? OR was he actually, seriously, oblivious to-

                "Did you really never notice...MY accent?" Robbie asked, touching his own chest.

                A look of understanding dawned on Sportacus' face, he clapped his hand to his mouth. "I-I thought that was just your...speaking style," he admitted sheepishly, face reddening.

                Robbie blinked fast as his brain COMPLETELY short-circuited. "Wh-I-I-you-" he took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, rubbing his temples. Good. GOD. In. HEAVEN. They had never TALKED about their birthplaces, but...Robbie had ASSUMED that that was because he didn't CARE, not because he didn't KNOW. "I can't be-LIEVE this," he spoke, muffled, into his hands. "I thought my accent was SO OBVIOUS!"

                Sportacus was visibly embarrassed, blushing hard in the moonlight.  "Sorry. I never even...thought."

                Okay this was getting uncomfortable again. Sportacus, blushing, WITHOUT his hat on, APOLOGIZING to Robbie Rotten? That was too weird.

                "Oh, don't WORRY about it," Robbie assured, giving him his best, winning (albeit buck-toothed) smile. "I've trained for YEARS to make my English sound THIS good."

                Sportacus smiled back, and raised his hands up. "Now, in my defense, elves don't go out among humans very often. Or at _all,_ in my case, before I came here."

                Robbie blinked. "Are you telling me that LAZYTOWN of-of ALL places, is the FIRST group of HUMANS you've EVER been AROUND?? Regularly??"

                "Yeah."

                "Then I MUST ask again--HOW are you SO GOOD at fixing HUMAN PROBLEMS?!" he demanded.

Sportacus shrugged, and pointed at one of his ears. "I'm an elf!" he said helplessly, as if that explained everything.

                "That-THAT doesn't explain ANYTHING!" Robbie protested. "Does THAT mean that your EARS are SHARP ENOUGH to poke HOLES in our PROBLEMS or something??"

                Sportacus actually ROLLED his EYES at that, and sighed. "NO, Robbie, it's just...elves have a certain...what would you call it," he said, reaching up to scratch at his head. " _Intuition_ , on how to solve problems. When something goes wrong..." he paused again, thinking. "I don't know how to explain it exactly, I can just...SEE a path to its resolution, usually quicker, and more detailed than most humans can, without thinking."

                Well. That DID explain everything.

                "You can DO all of the... _hero_ things you do, on INSTINCT?" Robbie asked, his mouth hanging open again.

                "Yes, instinct! That's it!" Sportacus said, relief showing on his face from having found the proper word. "Elves can do all this...emergency rescuing on INSTINCT. As for other types of helping," he shrugged, and sighed. "I'm just doing my best, like anyone else."

                He let the silence hang for a moment.

                "Speaking of," he said, tucking his ears and hair back into his cap, "Would you like to get down from here?"

                "Oh! Yes," Robbie said, quickly. How long had they been UP there? He REALLY should bring his watch the next time they-

                Wait. Next time?

                He was EXPECTING and LOOKING FORWARD to a NEXT TIME on top of this precarious, SCARY place??

                He sighed as he climbed onto Sportacus' back.  Yes, every time he found himself up on the billboard, and every time he got to talk to SPORTACUS up there, he found he feared it less and less.

 _Sometimes it is better to focus on what is good about it, rather than the fear,_ Sportacus’ voice echoed in his memory.

 _Well_ , he thought, tightening his grip on the elf's broad shoulders to keep from falling, burying his face in his neck to keep himself from seeing the ground, _I'm definitely doing THAT._

                Sportacus didn't seem to notice his inner turmoil at all, as they made it back to solid ground.

                In fact, instead of saying his goodbyes and leaving immediately, he was looking down, fidgeting with his hands.

                "Robbie," he said slowly, carefully. "Can I...ask a favor?"

                "What is it," Robbie asked suspiciously.

                "Please don't...tell the kids. About...me." he said, pointing to a covered ear.

                Robbie couldn't think of a reason why he would WANT to strike up a conversation with the little brats, ESPECIALLY about THAT, but Sportacus' tone still prompted him to ask, "Why not?"

                "I don't...I don't want them to know that I'm an elf," he said, still looking down. "I don't know what their parents told them, or-or what they think, or-I-I-just-" he broke off, taking a deep breath. "I don't want them to think differently about me."

                "I- _of course_ ," Robbie promised, without any hesitation.

                Sportacus smiled. "Thanks," he said, patting Robbie on the arm. "I _really_ appreciate that."

                He paused for a moment, looking at his hand on Robbie's bicep. Before Robbie could even register what was going on, Sportacus had moved forward even more, touching his head to his chest and EMBRACING him, tight enough to make Robbie's breath gasp out.

                Sportacus held him there for a moment, and then let go just as quickly, clearing his throat.

                "See ya, Robbie," he said, flashing him a grin but not meeting his eyes, racing up the ladder and pedaling the airship away lightning fast.

                Robbie touched the ghost of where Sportacus' head had just been. "Bye Sportacus," he mumbled, staring off into the night at the fast-shrinking airship.

-

                Robbie let out a breath as he sank into his chair, absently petting its fur while his mind RACED. The main thing he thought about that whole encounter was a single word: GREAT. He tapped his feet against the ground, mind abuzz with happiness. Sportacus had...TRUSTED him again! He LEARNED things about him! Robbie had so many more QUESTIONS that he didn't even THINK to ask at the time, such as...WHY was he so secretive about being an elf? What did he have to hide? What did it mean, what the kids PARENTS had told them? Why did he tell ROBBIE, of all people?

                "I NEVER thought I'd get the chance to _talk_ to him like, this," he said excitedly, "like fr-" he froze. "Friends," he completed slowly. " _SPOR-_ TACUS and I are becoming... _friends_." he whispered, in horror.  He looked around, as if there were someone there who could EXPLAIN how his LIFE kept taking such WILD twists and turns.  There was no such person, and no such information, so he just leaned his head back against his chair and took a deep breath. "That's..." he searched for a word that would relay all his complicated feelings about that realization.

                " _WEEIIRD,_ " he settled on, drawing out the syllable to try to express its inadequacy in that regard.  

                Not that he didn't LIKE Sportacus, oh no.  It was old news that he liked him TOO much. And that was the problem! The more he...BEFRIENDED Sportacus, the stronger it was making the...OTHER feelings.  Just look at him! His head was dizzy and his HEART was THUMPING with them right at that second!

                However, there was still a small, SANE part of him screaming about their ROLES!! The VILLAIN was not supposed to FALL for the HERO, especially not this BADLY!! That voice would probably get a lot louder after he got some SLEEP, but for right at that moment...

                All he could think about was that hug.

                That was...really throwing a wrench into his attempts to get back to normal. Robbie had always been a fan of TIGHT pressure, sometimes he would just...lay underneath things in order to satisfy the cravings. So... it was DEFINITELY good on THAT level.

                But also...being HELD CLOSE like that, especially by somebody he LIKED, was something entirely different. It was probably why his heart was still thumping and his skin still felt like it was vibrating, even an hour later. He couldn't even REMEMBER the last time anyone had hugged him like THAT. The few hugs he could remember receiving recently were polite (and uncomfortable), or from one of the children grabbing onto his leg. Nothing like the BONE CRUSHING that SPORTACUS was apparently capable of.

                "It was... _nice_ ," he said, noticing that he was now rubbing his own arms, instead of the arms of the chair. "I must admit. It sure HAS been a while since anybody-" he cleared his throat. "-HUGGED me," he forced out through gritted teeth. It physically pained him to say that word. "And so TIGHTLY too!"

                Why had he done it?

                More importantly--how could he get him to do it _again?_

                "Pressure..." he said thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around himself and squeezing as an idea formed in his mind. "POP!" he exclaimed.

                He turned his entire body around, still holding himself, to look at the exploding sportscandy plans he had left on the table.

                "Pressure!” he said excitedly, letting go of himself as the idea took root.

                “I could make them...PRESSURE sensitive!” he said, rubbing his hands together. "NOW that I know that SPORTACUS has such a STRONG GRIP," he said, wheels starting to turn in his head, "The KIDS would not be hurt, but they'd EXPLODE in HIS hands!" he said, laughing, and his body relaxed as his brain kicked into high gear.

                “Now THAT’LL be a challenge,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “but it is one I am WILLING to ACCEPT!”

                He smiled. It WOULD be difficult figuring out how to pull it off, but the inventor's block that had plagued him for WEEKS was GONE! Things were going to be just FINE.

                And, for ONCE, he was actually right about that.  

-

                Two days later, Robbie dressed up as a farmer, complete with a big mustache and a frankly AMAZING Southern US accent, and delivered a wheelbarrow full of his finished fake fruit to Sportacus, ("Now what in tarnation would you PAY me for, it's for FREE!") who accepted it with a BLINDING smile and profuse thanks.

                Almost made him feel bad for what was going to happen next.

                ALMOST.

                And, even BETTER than expected: while Robbie was changing back into his usual outfit, ZIGGY had tried to “help” by collecting MORE fruit, and pouring it all on top of the FAKE fruit pile!! That meant that Sportacus had to test each and every one by HAND!!

                It was Christmas come early for Robbie, he snickered as he watched the show from across the courtyard.

                "Robbie?" He heard from beside him.

                " _Yeees,_ Loud Girl?” he replied, still smiling nefariously at the scene in front of him. Sportacus picked up an apple, and dropped it with a tiny yelp as it exploded in his hand.

                "It's Trixie!" she said indignantly.

                "Whatever," he said, but he tore his eyes away from Sportacus to look down at her.

                "I have a question," she said.

                "Well, spit it out."

                "All of your...schemes are basically you trying to kick Sportacus out of town, right?" she asked.

                "Why yes," he said, smiling.

                "And this…” she gestured at Sportacus, who was poking at a (real) pear distrustfully, “this was one of YOUR schemes?"

                He considered denying it, but--what did he have to lose? It was already happening, and SUCCEEDING. "Yes," he said, proudly. “This is the work of _yours truly_ , your RESIDENT villain.”

                "That’s what I THOUGHT,” she said smugly.  “But how would THAT-" she gestured at Sportacus, who was now dropping a fake pear in shock, "Kick him out of town?"

                "Why, it would-" he started, but stopped as he realized something.

                That wasn't why he did it at all.

                "This one...wouldn't," he admitted.  He watched Sportacus’ face turn from hopeful to pure betrayal as another apple turned out to be a fake, and he sighed. "It's just... _funny._ "

                She laughed. "Yeah, it is."

                Sportacus was losing patience, picking up and squeezing every fruit, one of which turned out to be a real banana.

                SPLURT.

                Trixie and Robbie both let out a giggle.

                "You know what, Robbie Rotten? YOU'RE al- _right_ ," she said, and ran off to go play with Stephanie.

                Robbie blinked. It wasn't a grand gesture or anything, but coming from Trixie? That...was certainly SOMETHING.

                And it touched his heart, more than he would like to admit.

                Robbie sighed. What was HAPPENING in this little town? Did everybody suddenly catch a bad case of Nice-To-Villains-itis?? Between his slow... _befriending_ of Sportacus and hearing a "compliment" from Trixie, Robbie felt a little like someone was cutting at his tether to reality.

                He sighed, and pushed the thought out of his mind as he looked back up to see Sportacus marching up to the fruit pile, tennis racket in hand, and determination in his eyes.

                 At least this was a LITTLE bit of normalcy left in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...the secret is that he's drop dead gorgeous
> 
> OKAY SO THIS CHAPTER IS FINALLY THE CHAPTER THAT REFERENCED ONE OF MY M A J O R INSPIRATIONS FROM THE BEGINNING AND ITS [THIS TEXT POST BY SALVAGEDMOOSE!!! ](http://salvagedmoose.tumblr.com/post/154475075533/okay-but-imagine)
> 
> I've wanted to post that scene for so long but the fic just kept extending itself and extending itself, this was originally chapter 3 but now it's finally here!! I am so excited to share it with all of you!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those annoying kids are a whole lot smarter than Robbie ever gave them credit for, and that becomes a problem.

                Robbie stared up at the ceiling, turning his blankie over and over in his hands.

                "This is NOT my FAULT!" he called up.

                He winced at the ceiling echoing "fault fault fault" back at him.

                "It's really NOT," he pouted, crossing his arms. "I was just minding my own business, being a VILLAIN, and doing FANTASTICALLY, I might add!" he pointed a finger at the ceiling. "It's not my fault that everyone in town is  doing...doing..." he waved a hand around, struggling to find a descriptor.

                "Doing THAT!" he decided on, slumping down.

                What WERE they doing? Well...they were breaking from the script! Adhering to the villain role meant things were PREDICTABLE. Robbie would grumble, scheme, talk to himself, laugh nefariously, try to kick Sportacus out of town, and keep to himself.  That was HIS part of the bargain! All the _rest_ of them had to do was leave him alone!

                Was it lonely? Sometimes! But, he was VERY good at dealing with it by now.

                He was NOT good at having friends.

                Having friends meant people EXPECTING things of you.  It meant you had to attend...baby showers, make small talk, be polite. Robbie wanted NO PART of any of that...unpleasantness.

                But people just...kept...TALKING to him! Going off script! Like Trixie, for example, always coming up to him and showing him a karate move, expecting him to say something about it! LIKE WHAT?? Whatever HE came up with was never RIGHT! His face burned as he remembered...

 

_"Hey Robbie, look at this!" Trixie said, throwing her leg up in the air._

_"Look at what?"_

_"It's a roundhouse kick!" She did it again._

_"Ohh, so it was SUPPOSED to look like that?"_

 

                Back in the present, he dragged a hand down his face as embarrassment curled in his stomach. "WHYYY," he lamented.

                THAT'S why he should never have friends. Too many opportunities to embarrass himself by saying something stupid.

                "It's all because of that meddling SportaFLOP!" he outbursted.  Just like everything that changed in LazyTown--it was that ELF'S fault. Sure, it was nice to have a hero to fight against, his villainy could really SHINE with an adversary like that, but...Sportacus wasn't really sticking to his role either, especially since-

                "Ever since he talked to me up on that billboard," Robbie realized, "he's been RUINING my LIFE! He's been...NICE, he's been making me FEEL THINGS that are UNVILLAINOUS, _"_ he threw his hands up in the air, "Why can't he just leave me **ALONE**!"

                "Alone! Alone! Alone!" echoed back to him off the lair walls, and he sighed. He could SAY that all he wanted, but his words rang hollow, even to his own ears.  If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he LOVED talking to Sportacus, one on one, far too much to ever stop. Robbie even found himself sometimes looking wistfully up at the BILLBOARD, of all things, just because that's where all their good talks had happened! Not that his fear of heights was gone, FAR from it, but...when he wasn't up there, it wasn't the height that stuck out in his mind anymore.  It was their conversations. It was Sportacus' eyes lighting up as he enthusiastically engaged with Robbie, it was his grateful smiles, his HAIR, his head on Robbie's chest, his arms wrapped around him for just that one moment...

                "This isn't RIGHT!" Robbie growled, standing up from his chair. " _I_ am supPOSED to be the VILLAIN!  And the VILLAIN can't have lo-" he gagged on the word, then lowered his voice to a strained whisper, " _lovey-dovey_ feelings toward the hero!"

                He sighed deeply. "But, I do," he said in resignation, a frown appearing on his face. "The better question is--what can I DO about it?"

                He rubbed his temples, trying to stimulate the thought processes. "Think, Robbie, think."

                He paced the length of his lair, swiveled abruptly, and paced back again, taking big strides.

                "OGH! USELESS BRAIN!" he exclaimed, thunking himself on the side of the head. "You've GOT to think of SOMETHING!"

                He froze. "Maybe, I could-!" he started, but broke off with a frown.

                "No. _Terrible_ idea," he continued, pacing up the stairs to the disguise machine, circling around the upper landing, and back down through the kitchen, when he was struck by inspiration again.

"Maybe-! No, no, I already TRIED that, and it didn't work," he said, leaning against the counter, drumming his fingers on his chin.

                "A-ha!" he said, as he got a MUCH better idea, striding back into the main room and approaching his most recent pile of machinery, hands hovering over the piles of metal. "Every time I start to THINK about that SportaLOSER in such a-" he feigned a swoon, putting a hand to his forehead with a high-pitched giggle, "-way, I'll distract myself by making a contraption!"

                He grabbed one of the large aluminum rods. "This WILL WORK!" he said to it excitedly, and picked up his favorite hammer.

-

                By the end of the week, Robbie could hardly move through his lair without stepping on one or more volatile machines. It more served as a painful reminder of how BAD the crush had gotten, rather than actually helping him distract from it.

                "This...isn't working. All of these machines are STUPID!!" he growled, picking up one of the vaguely ray-gun shaped ones and inspecting it. "Really?? A FABRIC sensor?? When would I ever NEED that?!"

                He tossed it back to the ground with a clang, and dragged his hands down his face.

                "Why am I wasting my time?" he asked his disguise tank, as if he expected it to answer. "I SHOULD be out looking for a SCHEME. Without a scheme it feels..." he sighed, "fake."

                "I better find one, and FAST!" he said, pulling down his periscope and taking a look.

                The kids were playing a game on the sports field. Probably soccer? Robbie never paid enough attention to learn the RULES of any of the games they played, but he sure did know-

                THWACK!

                The sound of a rubber ball pinging off his periscope.

                "Yep. Soccer," Robbie spat, like it was a dirty word. "With...BALLS flying everywhere, and-and KICKING FEET, and WHY, may I ask, would they need SHOES with SPIKES on them??"

                Robbie considered for a moment. "You know," he said slowly, "I COULD always try getting rid of their precious sports equipment," he mused. "That one even WORKS sometimes." 

                "And I could use the-Oh!" he exclaimed, as a particularly stylish idea occurred to him. "That would be so FUN!" he squealed, pulling out his now-functional exploding sportscandy generator and racing into the kitchen, cackling the whole way. He had an IDEA.

-

                Robbie emerged triumphantly, and immediately cringed at the strong sunlight.  It was a beautiful day in Lazytown, which meant full-force sunlight streaming into his eyeballs.

                "I really should invest in a pair of sunglasses," he said, grunting with the effort of dragging his machine along.

                Through a stroke of pure Rotten genius, he had combined his wood chipper conveyor belt with the vac-o-matic tube, which meant that in THEORY, any sports equipment he encountered would get sucked up the tube and get pulled up the conveyor belt, flying immediately out the back of the device. He only hoped that it would go flying far enough to discourage them from running after it.

                "First order of business: test," he said, finding a fallen tree branch that could, in a pinch, be used for sports of some kind. He unlatched the flexible tube from its hook on the side of the device, and held it firmly in his grasp, pointing it toward the unsuspecting branch on the ground.

                "So far, so good," he said hopefully, and reached back to flip the on switch.

                It started up with a roar. Between the vacuum itself and the conveyor belt, it was a VERY NOISY MACHINE, and the flexible tube was writhing in his grasp like a wiggly snake, but in the end? The vacuum sucked up the branch with a SHLOOP! noise, and expelled it violently up and out the back of the machine--twenty, twenty-five, thirty feet in the air before it gracefully arced back down over the fields behind his lair.

                Robbie exhaled with a sigh of relief as he reached back to switch it off again. It was always nice when his schemes didn't IMMEDIATELY blow up in his face. "Out of sight," Robbie said, watching the branch land with a distant thump, "Out of MIND," he giggled nefariously.

                Robbie dragged his machine into town, severely regretting not using his original, driving lawnmower idea. It was just so much EASIER to slap a wagon handle on the back, and he had been SO IMPATIENT to get up there and try it!

                "The price I pay for LAZINESS," he said through gritted teeth, pulling harder on the handle as he trundled his way through town.

                He set up his temporary parking spot for his vacuum next to one of the short, low walls that honestly seemed to have no purpose, as he prepped for the next part of his plan.

                "Second order of business: get rid of SportaFLOP," he muttered to himself, carefully taking his blankie out of his pocket and unwrapping it, revealing a fake apple,  "By giving him a gift!" he giggled, gingerly grasping it by the stem and looking around. "Now where is he..."

                Usually at this time, unless someone needed him, Sportacus was doing his daily obstacle course routine. "He SHOULD come flipping by _any_ moment now..."

                Sure enough, there was the flippity elf, off in the distance, using LazyTown architecture as his own personal obstacle course.

                "There he IS!" Robbie said, excitement prickling in his stomach as he ducked behind the wall.

                He put a hand to his ear as he listened, carefully, waiting until he could hear each of Sportacus' footfalls. That meant he was close enough for Robbie to spring his carefully-calculated trap!

                "Hey SPORTACUS!" Robbie yelled, straightening up and lobbing the fake apple in his direction. "CATCH!!"

                Sportacus could NEVER resist the offer to catch whatever came toward him--mid triple-backflip.  Robbie rolled his eyes. Why did he have to be...LIKE THAT.

                Sportacus landed perfectly, of course, and waved at him.  "Hi Robbie," he greeted, tossing the object from hand to hand. "Is this a-" he started to ask, squeezing it.

                POOF!

                The fake exploded.

                Packed in the outer shell of the fake apple was a layer of powdered sugar, which coated Sportacus in a snowlike layer of fine powder. He spluttered, which showed that Robbie's plan worked: some got in his mouth.

                Sportacus collapsed into a sugar meltdown, right on the pavement.

                "Well," Robbie said, looking down at the incapacitated hero with a smile. "THAT was easy."

                He looked left, then right. Coast was clear.

                He picked up Sportacus underneath the armpits, and dragged him, with GREAT effort, behind the wall.

                "Alright," he panted, wiping his brow. "Now, I'm no _fool_. I know that I don't have much time before somebody FINDS HIM and gives him SPORTSCANDY again, so I better go quick!" he turned quickly, reaching out to grasp the wagon handle.

                At least, that was what he was INTENDING.

                What he had _actually_ done was grab the on switch, and the machine ROARING to life scared the HELL out of Robbie, he jumped backwards involuntarily and landed on the ground.  So, he could only gaze in horror as the loose vacuum tube, flopping around like a fish out of water, settled next to Sportacus' head and sucked up his hat.

                "OH SH-" Robbie quickly censored himself as he lept forward, scrambling for the off switch, but it was too late.  The Sports Sucker 3000 worked EXACTLY AS INTENDED, and shot the tiny hat up and out at a frightening velocity, high into the air.

                Robbie watched with bated breath as it went up, up, so high it was nothing more than a speck, and then floated down at an easy pace, far into the trees where he couldn't even see it anymore.

                Robbie's eyes widened, and he mouthed a curse. This was shaping up to be a PROBLEM.

                He paced in quick laps, hardly longer than the length of Sportacus' sleeping body. "What to do, what to do," he mumbled, running through all the options in his head, talking himself through at a rapid pace.

                "I could still _pull off_ the scheme, probably, if I was QUICK about it! But then again, there's no TELLING how long I have before someone sneaks off and finds him, and usually that would be OKAY, not great but OKAY, but now _I_ am going to have to be that person!" he broke off, panting, stroking the blankie in his left pocket anxiously as he thought.

                "I don't want to give UP...perhaps I could switch schemes? Nah, I don't have another prepared, plus the vacuum is already OUT and ABOVE GROUND. I could...I could..." he looked around wildly for any sort of idea. This was what was known as Plan Purgatory.

                Robbie HATED Plan Purgatory. His plan had been destroyed, but not in such a way that he could just go home and forget about the whole thing. He had no direction, nothing to follow, nothing to CLING to, he was left floating in the void of his own anxiousness until he came up with something else.

                "I could...wake Sportacus up and ask him for advice?" he suggested, but then shuddered. "Please Robbie, don't you have ANY dignity? No, no, I can solve this," he said, taking a deep breath in, and letting it out.

                "Maybe..." he said, his frantic pacing slowing down slightly, "Maybe I will go GET the hat, SLIP it right back on his head, and continue the scheme as normal!" he nodded as his new direction solidified in his head. He nodded confidently, he had a PLAN again! "Yes. THAT is what I will do."

                He paused for a moment as he looked down, catching sight of Sportacus' hair, splayed out on the concrete.  He sighed through his nose. God, it was NICE. But, it was exposed, as were his ears.

 _You know, he'd leave town if everyone hated him for being an elf,_ an intrusive part of his mind suggested.

                But Robbie felt sick at even ENTERTAINING that idea. The alarms in his mind were blaring TRUST BREACH TRUST BREACH TRUST BREACH-

                "I'm a VILLAIN!" he exclaimed over them, but then sighed. "But I'm not _cruel_. I could NEVER betray his trust like that."

                Besides, he had a fine plan, one that would work WITHOUT any major betrayal.

                "First: buy myself some time," he said, looking for something to throw over Sportacus' face. There was...nothing.  Except, maybe...

                He pulled his blankie out of his left pocket that he had used to cushion the exploding apple and looked at it for a moment.  That was the only removable item that he could reasonably cover Sportacus with. He...didn't particularly want to part with it.

                "Ah well. I'll be back in a moment anyway," he said, "and it'll be safe here with Sportacus." With that, he tossed the purple fabric over Sportacus' face. Its single patch, neatly covering a hole with the image of a bird, was laid across Sportacus' chin.

                "Heh," Robbie snickered. "Sporta-TURKEY."

                "Back to business," he said, pushing Sportacus closer to the wall and carefully parking the vacuum in front of him, careful not to run over any extremities.

                "That should hold him," he brushed his hands off. "Now...to FIND...the HAT."

                He knew which direction GENERALLY it had gone. It had gone into the woods. Which, luckily, he was right next to! This would take no time at all!

                "Piece of cake," he said, hurrying down the path that lead through the little forest.

                After approximately two minutes of looking up every tree, Robbie was getting increasingly more frantic.  His speed-walking turning into jogging, his jogging turning into running, his running turning into full out SPRINTING.

                "Where is it?!" he gasped, grasping at his hair, looking around wildly. How many TREES were in this forest?? How long was he supposed to SEARCH?? How long did he have until a crafty kid found SPORTACUS lying behind a VACUUM with his EARS EXPOSED-

                He was quickly realizing that he hadn't accounted for the sheer magnitude of the SEARCHING part, he couldn't possibly cover the ENTIRE forest in that little time!!

                "I WISH I had a-" he gasped, cutting himself off as he remembered. "A FABRIC SENSOR!" he said, his hands releasing his hair and instead clapping with elation.

                So he swiveled around, and took the OTHER path back to the center of LazyTown, trying to make as straight a bee-line as possible to his lair.  He even jumped OVER some walls!

                Once he dropped down into the cool, safe, quiet solitude of his lair, he wished he could just stay there for the rest of the day. But he had a HAT to find and a SCHEME to finish. So he swiped the fabric sensor off the ground, tested it by pointing it at his shirt (it beeped) and raced back up, sprinting back across town to the forest.

                As he got closer to the forest, his strides became more and more lethargic as his legs became more and more leaden. Between dragging the vacuum and running across LazyTown TWICE...Oh god, was he TIRED.

                He gasped and panted, leaning against one of the trees, "Oh...oh lord. This is too much," he said, trying to catch his breath.  But then he steeled himself, switching on the fabric sensor. "But I NEED to FIND it before-"

                "Robbie, why are you RUNNING?"

                He whirled around to find every one of the kids staring at him.

                "Whatcha got there? Is that a ray gun?" Trixie asked, pointing at his little sensor.

                "None of your busine-HEY!" he exclaimed as Trixie grabbed it from his hand with a "Yoink!"

                The kids crowded around the machine.

                "What's it do?" Trixie asked, pointing it at Stephanie. It beeped.

                "It must be a PINK finder!" she giggled. Stephanie swiped it from her and returned the favor.

                BEEP.

                "No, it's a RED finder!" she corrected, turning it to Ziggy.

                BEEP.

                "It must be a CANDY finder!" Ziggy squealed.

                "No, no, it's a FABRIC finder," Robbie corrected. "You're all wearing CLOTHES, thank goodness, so it picks up on those. Now, give it back pl-"

                "A FABRIC finder!" Pixel exclaimed in disbelief, grabbing it from Ziggy, examining it. He seemed a bit confused, turning it over and over in his hand. "Where's the screen?"

                "It-it doesn't have one, I don't really USE screens in my-"

                "You don't use SCREENS?" Pixel gasped, horrified. "But, you could have so much more FUNCTIONALITY with a screen! Distance from the target,  amount of fabric, TYPE of fabric, directional ranges of the device??" he counted off on his fingers.

                "I don't know, Pincers, it just beeps and-" he paused, shaking his head, and scowling. "Why am I telling you this? GIVE me that back," he said, yanking it away.

                "Now, if you DON'T mind, I'VE got some SEARCHING to do," he said, and then winced.  He should NOT have said that.

                "Have you lost something?" Stephanie asked, curiously.

                "Yes-I mean-no, nothing of...importance," he lied lamely.

                None of them dignified him by even PRETENDING to believe that.

                "What is it? Maybe we could help you find it!" Stephanie suggested, looking positively GIDDY at the prospect.

                "Finders keepers?" Stingy said hopefully.

                "No, no, _little children_ are not fit for search parties, you all need to go away and-"

                "Why don't we have Sportacus help, he can do _anything!"_ Ziggy squealed excitedly.  "He'd probably find it in five seconds flat!"

                "NO!" Robbie squeaked, and then arranged his face to look appropriately grumpy. "Ahem-no, no, I don't want that BLUE-SUITED BUFFOON anywhere near m-"

                "Wait a second," Trixie said, eyes narrowing. "Where IS Sportacus?"

                Robbie froze, dread flooding through him. "Why-why would _I_ know?" he asked weakly.

                "Did you DO something to him?" Trixie asked, crossing her arms. Now that she had said this, the rest of them were also eyeing him suspiciously.

                "N-no," he said, feeling his nose and mouth twitch, "He's F-FINE, he's just-wait, why would I know that, I jus-"

                Trixie's eyes widened and she gasped. "You DID!" she accused.

                "No, I didn't!" Robbie argued.

                "Yes you did!" she exclaimed, pointing at him.

                "Did not!" he took a step closer.

                "Did too!" SHE took a step closer, unafraid.

                "Did NOT!"

                "Did TOO!!" she turned to her friends to back her up.  "Has anybody SEEN Sportacus today?"

                "I saw him doing flips this morning!! But, that was before lunch," Ziggy acknowledged. The kids murmured, uncertainly, to themselves.

                Trixie tapped Robbie's chest with conviction. "YOU come up with schemes against Sportacus like, EVERY DAY, just so you can be lazy, but I saw you RUNNING across LazyTown TWICE, with a funny machine, and Sportacus is NOWHERE to be seen? Doesn't that strike anyone else as WEIRD??"

                That was...EXTREMELY astute of her.  Robbie went wide-eyed in both awe AND panic. He knew that the kids were getting older and smarter, but figuring out the schemes? He was NOT ready for that!

                ESPECIALLY not today!

                "Yeah, based on past data, the probability of Robbie having something to do with the absence of Sportacus is..." he furrowed his brows and punched a couple things into his wrist calculator.

                "Eighty-five percent!" he gasped.

                The others gasped as well, and started mumbling among themselves.  "What do we do?"

                "We should call Sportac-" Ziggy squealed, but fell silent at the withering look Stingy gave him.  "Right. Sorry."

                "Huddle up!" Stephanie called, and they all turned inward, trying to struggle their way through a collective plan.

                "Maybe he's looking for Sportacus! Maybe he captured him and then...lost him!"

                Robbie was busy deciding which horrified facial expression would fit him best at the moment, and was deciding between grabbing his hair and biting his nails, when he realized: none of the children were currently looking at HIM.

                This was his chance!

                He fled, deeper into the trees, wildly waving the fabric sensor from side to side. Much as he hated to admit it, Pixel was right.  This little machine was even a step down from a store-bought metal detector.  It had to be pointing directly AT the fabric to sense it, and Robbie wasn't really sure what its limits were.

                It really didn't help his TIME IS RUNNING OUT panic as much as he thought it would.

                "Stay calm, Robbie," he told himself, taking a steadying breath. "Maybe, in order to FIND the hat, I just have to...THINK like the hat," he decided.  He closed his eyes and placed his fingers on his temples.

                "If I were Sportacus' hat," he said, with all the seriousness he could muster, "WHERE would I be?"  He pictured the blue and white hat (plus goggles) in his mind.  Maybe if he concentrated REALLY hard...he would magically know where to find it.

                He opened his eyes again, and surveyed his options.

                "I guess..." he said helplessly, picking a direction that FELT correct, "I would be THIS way." He strode into the woods where his gut feeling took him, wielding his fabric sensor like a sword.

                As he walked, he second-guessed himself. What if he had chosen the EXACT wrong way?? Just because his brain liked this direction the best, doesn't mean it was ACTUALLY there. What if Robbie had already walked right by it and MISSED it?? What if it was covered in leaves on the ground? What if the kids had already found their way to Sportacus' hiding place, what if they already saw-

                BEEP!

                Robbie jumped as a beep sounded from his machine. He followed with his eyes where the sensor was pointing, and sure enough, there it was, in all its blue and white glory, hanging off of a high branch on the nearest tree!

                "The HAT!" he squealed in delight.  "I can't believe my LUCK! I FOUND it!!" he did a little dance to shake off the excess energy.

                "Alright, come to me," he said, picking a stick up off the ground and hurling it with all his strength at the hat.

                He missed by about six inches.

                He threw another stick, it hit the goggles with a "tink!" noise, but the hat did not dislodge.

                "UGH, I don't have TIME for this!" he said, looking down. "And, I'm out of sticks!"

                There was nothing else for it but to climb the tree.

                It was a bit of a struggle, but soon Robbie was sitting in the Y of the trunk, willing himself to NOT. LOOK. DOWN. He was approximately six feet in the air, and if he just...stood up and reached, he could probably grab it.

                "Why does it have to be up so HIGH?" he complained, but then steeled himself. "Come on, Robbie. You can do this. It's for SPORTACUS," he reminded himself, and grasped the branch with both hands.

                Inch by inch, fingers splayed on the rough bark for maximum traction, he shimmied his upper body up the vertical branch, going from crouching to his full six feet of height.  Wrapping his left arm completely around his anchor branch, he extended his right arm out to snatch at the hat.

                "C'mon," he said, hugging tighter with his left arm and stretching out with his right. "Come on!"

                His fingers brushed the very bottom seam, but couldn't get a grip. He just had to reach a LITTLE farther, and-

                SUCCESS!

                His fingers grasped the soft blue fabric, and immediately he retracted that arm to hug the tree as well.

                "I did it!" he squeaked, his giddy smile half smashed against the rough bark of the tree. "Now, to get down," he said, uncertainly.

                Right.

                That.

                He peeked his face over his right shoulder, and his vision swam.

                "Come on, Robbie," he said, taking a shaky breath. In, and out. "It's not as high as the billboard, right?"

                But there was no Sportacus to save him here.

                This time...SPORTACUS was the one who needed saving.

                "Oh, being the hero is AWFUL," Robbie said, tightening his grip on the tree. "I hope I NEVER have to do it again."

                But as he was psyching himself up for the descent, he heard the sound of the children coming his way.

                "Do you think Sportacus would be this far into the woods?" Stephanie was asking.

                "I don't know, we just have to keep looking!" came Trixie's voice.

                "Trixie, you don't have to be so BOSSY," Stingy sniffed.

                "Do you want to find him, or not??" Trixie said, angrily.

                "I do, it's just that..." Stingy sounded deep in thought. "Robbie said he was searching for something.  Presumably, he wants to bring that something back into town. "

                They paused right at the base of Robbie's tree, considering Stingy's remark.  Robbie stifled a gasp, and buried his face in Sportacus' blue hat, WILLING them to pass him by.

                "Maybe Robbie _isn't_ looking for Sportacus," Stingy said thoughtfully. "Or...why would he build a machine that finds CLOTHES?"

                "Sportacus wears _clothes,_ silly," Stephanie chided.

                "Yes, but so do ALL of us, that's not the POINT," Stingy said impatiently.  "The point is, it doesn't make sense that he would be searching for Sportacus if he had already CAPTURED him.  If _I_ had captured Sportacus, I would put him somewhere safe while I searched for my missing...whatever-it-is. What if Sportacus is still in town somewhere?"

                "You know what, Stingy?" Trixie asked, sighing, "I think you might be right. Let's head back into town."

                They all meandered away, aimlessly bouncing around the edges of the path, calling for Sportacus, looking underneath rocks and other improbable places.

                Robbie peeked out with one eye, to check that the kids were far enough away, and then screamed into the hat.

                 "HOW are they so SMART!" he said, voice still muffled by the fabric, and then began to shimmy back down into an awkward sitting position in the Y of the trunk.

                "Okay, Robbie," he said, heaving a huge sigh. "You've got to come up with SOMETHING to get those kids off your trail!" At least he had the HAT now, which he stuffed into his pocket.

                The sole advantage of still being in that blasted tree was, he could see where the kids were going.  They were approaching the fork in the path. He anxiously reached into his pocket and touched the top of Sportacus' hat.  If they took the right fork...he was in trouble. It was a more meandering path, definitely the...SCENIC route back into town.  But, the end of the path was where Robbie had started-about twenty feet from the wall that hid his vacuum, and the hatless Sportacus.  And if they were smart enough to get THIS far...

                That meant he had MINUTES, IF THAT, to come up with something else.

                "Come on, come on, come on," he repeated quietly to himself, rocking slightly as he wrung Sportacus' hat in his hands. "Come on!"

                He couldn't think.  All he could do was WATCH, spending all his mental energy just HOPING that they would take the left fork.

                In vain.

                "C'mon, let's go this way!" Stephanie called, motioning them onto the right path.

                Robbie's heart dropped into his stomach, then exploded into the rest of his body as panic.

                "Oh NO!" he shrieked, as his panicked spasm made him lose his balance, and he fell out of the tree and landed hard on the ground.

                Well, that solved the getting down problem, if only in the most PAINFUL way possible.

                "Oww," he said, rubbing his shoulder, but springing up to his feet in record time. "Ugh, there's no time for PAIN!!" he exclaimed, sprinting down the left path.  That one would take him closer to his lair, where he would have to whip together some sort of disguise VERY VERY QUICKLY.

 _What disguise?_?? he asked himself as he ran through the empty town square. _A robber? A dinosaur? A schoolteacher? A firework salesman? A museum docent? A-_

                His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of a shadow, someone was rounding the corner toward him!

                He skidded to a stop and leaped into the mailbox, almost on pure instinct.

                He peeked out through the slot, those footfalls didn't SOUND like a child's. Oh...it was just the mayor, holding a package, excitedly humming to himself.  He walked around the mailbox and set the package down on the wall beside it, tearing it open with great gusto.

                "What? This isn't my new _apron_ ," Milford said, disappointed. "This is a... _detective's_ coat! And it's not even in my SIZE," he said, sadly.

                Robbie gasped from inside the mailbox. "MY NEW-" he said, forgetting where he was and leaping up, smacking his head on his tiny container.

                "Ow," he winced, and dove back out of the mailbox, letters scattering as he landed on the ground with a thump.

                "Oh, hello Mr. Rotten!" Milford said, beaming. "Is this YOUR new coat, per chance?"

                "Yes! Give it to me!" Robbie snatched the costume from the mayor, examining it. A new disguise, a new color, the kids had never SEEN this outfit before!!

                "I'm SAVED!" he said, hugging the mayor and lifting him right off the ground.

                "Oh!" Milford gasped as he was made airborne. "Yes, well, I knew it must be something of yours," he mumbled as he was set down again. "Enjoy!" he called, but Robbie was already dashing away, feeling a THOUSAND times better about the direction of his day.

                He skidded to a stop in front of his vacuum, and peeked over the wall at the forest path entrance.

                "They're not HERE yet!" he said, excitedly. "I have time to CHANGE!"

                He crouched behind his vacuum, dropping the fabric sensor and preparing to change, but paused. He just couldn't resist...

                "It's...DISGUISE time," he said with a gleeful grin, and then got to work on changing as fast as possible.

                "Last time, I was just a REGULAR detective," he said through gritted teeth as he yanked his pants on.  Getting dressed the manual way was so much WORK, and the sensation of fabric sliding up his legs made his skin crawl. He made a mental note to never do this again. "This time, I'll be a..." he ripped the inside pocket out of his coat and cut two reasonably eye-shaped holes in it with his pocketknife, "HERO detective," he declared, throwing on his overcoat with a spin.  It didn't feel...finished, unless he did a spin.

                The long trenchcoat, the old style fedora, this one had more...mystery, intrigue, than the last detective outfit he had used.  He tied the slapdash mask around his face not a moment too soon- he heard the sound of those little brats emerging from the path. 

                Time to go.

                "I hear you kids are looking for a...SUPERHERO," he said, peeling out from behind the wall, putting on a gritty, New York noir accent.

                The kids stared at him for a moment. "Who are you?"

                "Why, I'm Robin X, Private Investigator, here from the Department of Missing Heroes," he tried to keep his composure as he flashed them his fake ID booklet, they were FEET from Sportacus, and this was his very last hope.

                "Wow, do you go out searching for bad guys?" Ziggy asked, captivated as always.

                "Sometimes,"  Robbie said smugly, "I've run across some pretty...DASTARDLY villains in my time."

                "Cool," Stingy said in awe.

                "But mostly?" he paused for dramatic effect, the kids were hanging off his every word. "I don't go _looking_ for bad guys. My job is REALLY to find missing heroes, with my _highly_ honed set of skills," he finished, whipping out a pen and paper from his coat.

                The kids oohed.

                "Now," he said, clicking the pen a couple times. "Let's cover the basics. Please tell me, how long has your hero been missing?"

                They looked at each other. "Pixel?" Stephanie prompted.

                "Oh yeah," he said, punching a few buttons on his wrist computer. "Last reported sighting of Sportacus was...twenty-five minutes ago!"

                "Twenty five MINUTES?" Robbie gasped, almost breaking character. It sure FELT like a lot longer.  But, it would be easier to get them to stop their panicked search this way. "That's-that's not even enough time to enjoy a nice lunch at PABLO'S! And you kids are crying missing person already?"

                The kids looked suitably chastised.  Good, he had them where he wanted them.

                "Now. The first thing we need to do before we..." he cleared his throat and adjusted his hat, " _Lose our heads,_ is check all of the usual places he would be. Can you tell me where your hero USUALLY goes?"

                "Well, usually he is rescuing us! Whenever we get in trouble, that is," Ziggy said.

                "So, WITH you, in other words?" Robbie looked around dramatically, left, right, left. "We can check THAT one off."

                "Sportacus spends 35.2 percent of his time practicing flips!" Pixel announced after another calculation.

                "Seems a little low," Robbie mumbled under his breath.

                "What was that you said?" Stingy asked.

                "Nothing, nothing," Robbie said quickly, scratching down the words "TOO MANY FLIPPITY FLOPS" onto his notepad. "What else does he do?"

                "Well, if he's not here in LazyTown, he's usually up in his airship! That's where he lives!" Stephanie piped up cheerfully.

                Yes! The airship!

                "Have you...checked there for him, yet?" Robbie asked carefully.

                "Uh, no," Stephanie answered.

                "You haven't even checked where he LIVES first?!" Robbie asked, fake-scandalized.

                "No?"

                "Okay," Robbie said slowly, reading over his notes, "Your hero has been missing for all of _half an hour,_ you haven't checked where he _lives_ , OR asked any adults about it before you decided to go off on a search-and-rescue mission?"

                "Well, uh, we're asking _you_ right now," Pixel said.

                "I MEAN ADULTS YOU KNOW!" Robbie exploded. "Don't you have PARENTS you could tell??"

                Stephanie waved a hand. "Don't worry.  This kind of thing happens all the time, and we are _pretty_ good at dealing with it ourselves."

                "Yeah!" Trixie agreed.

                "You...never tell your parents when things like this happen?" Robbie said slowly, blinking a few times. "That's-" he paused. _One crisis at a time, Robbie.  Stay focused._

                "Anyway, I think you all shouldn't worry too much about-"

                "Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Trixie protested.  "What about Robbie Rotten? He was acting REALLY weird earlier!" The rest of the kids murmured their oh-yeah's and I-forgot-about-that's.

                Man. Robbie would be impressed if she wasn't using her critical thinking skills AGAINST him.

                "Mister Robin," Trixie said desperately, "We're only looking for Sportacus because we think that Robbie Rotten CAPTURED him again!"

                "Robbie Rotten?" Robbie said, acting like the name was foreign to his mouth, scribbling THAT'S ME!!! onto the notepad. "Tell me more about this character."

                "He's a villain who tries to kick Sportacus out of town!"

                "Sportacus _always_ stops his schemes," Stephanie said proudly. "But sometimes? _We_ have to save Sportacus first."

                "Tell me about it," Robbie murmured.

                "What was that?" Trixie asked.

                "Ahem-I said, 'So he's a real villain, eh?'"  Robbie said, now drawing a crude self portrait.

                "Yep! He's ALWAYS coming up with new schemes to try to get us to be lazy. But they never work for very long." 

                "He sounds like...a _dangerous_ fellow. I'm the professional here, I'll go...question him.  Just so you little bra-uh, little _tots_ , can stay safe."

                "Aw, you don't know ROBBIE.  He's not DANGEROUS!" Ziggy said, shaking his head.

                "Hmph. I'm sure he's VERY dangerous," Robbie sniffed, mildly offended. "Has he ever tricked or trapped any of YOU before?"

                "Yes, a bunch of times," they collectively admitted.

                "Well then! Better leave him to me, as I'M the professional.  You don't want to get caught in one of his villain traps without your hero around to save you, right?" he said.  He drew in a deep breath, preparing a good old noir-style monologue.

                "I've seen this type of character a million times," he said, deeply sighing. "They're all the same, no-good villainous wretches who will stop at nothing to achieve their goals," he'd probably have put a cigarette to complete the image, but he was in front of the kids. So he stuck his pen in his mouth instead.

                "Yes sir, I've seen it before," he said, pen clacking awkwardly in his teeth, but he was too committed to the image to stop now."Bad people, through and through.  Criminal lowlife scum, with nothing better to do than cause trouble.  It just makes me sick."  Hopefully that would cement in their minds that they were DEFINITELY NOT talking to the town villain, and that he was on the "good guy" side.

                "Hey! Don't talk about Robbie like that!" Trixie said, angrily.

                Robbie spit out the pen in suprise. "Ex- _cuse_ me?" Robbie said, his original accent showing through with the break in his voice. "Isn't this your VILLAIN?"

                "Yeah, Robbie is OUR villain, you hear? OURS!" Stingy said.

                "And he's not bad, or scum, or-or ANYTHING you just said!" Stephanie protested.

                "Yeah, if you're going to be mean to Robbie, then we don't NEED you, we can find Sportacus ourselves!!" Pixel declared.

                "Yeah!" the rest of them agreed, nodding.

                Robbie put his hands up against his own defense squad, looking oddly like a pack of angry wolves. "Okay, okay, um, I'm sorry. I won't be mean to...him."

                "GOOD," Trixie growled.

                He felt...something, looking at all the fiercely protective faces glaring at him.  He pushed it away.  This scheme had to go off without a hitch, more than any other he had ever done. He couldn't get distracted now.

                "Ahem. Anyway. I'll go talk to this Rotten guy, while you all look for the hero."

                "But...but what if Sportacus is WITH Robbie?" Stephanie asked.

                WHY WERE THEY SO SMART TODAY. "If I find him first, I will send a signal," he said, reassuringly. "It sounds like this," he took a deep breath and gave the most earsplitting screech that he could, making all of the kids jump  backward and cover their ears.

                "Got it?" Robbie asked.  The kids all nodded mutely.  "Now, let's split you up, because there are a couple different jobs that have to be done here," he said, hand hovering, figuring out who would be best suited for what.

                "You two," he said, pointing at Stingy and Ziggy, "You two are in charge of the search party.  Go down to city hall, organize a search party, and sweep the town, from east to west." Stingy was the most analytical, he could definitely handle it and keep the mayor in check.  As for Ziggy...he had to be supervised, and walking around LazyTown was probably the safest place for him to be. "Oh, and make sure you TELL AN ADULT what you're up to. " they nodded, and ran off together.

                He pointed at the remaining three. Stephanie, the most athletic, Trixie, a quick thinker on her feet, and Pixel, resourceful with all the gadgets he constantly wore.  The least likely to get IRREVOCABLY LOST if he sent them off somewhere that wasn't city hall.

                "You three: go to where this superhero LIVES, and see if he's there."

                He would have to have a talk with the mayor about teaching them emergency preparedness later. In disguise, of course.

                "Robin?" Stephanie said, approaching him.

                "What is it?"

                "I know you've probably seen some pretty bad villains before, but...Robbie...he isn't like that," she said, fidgeting.

                "Oh?" Robbie asked.

                "Yeah, he's...he's even kind of a big softie, sometimes. So please, when you find him, don't be mean to him, okay?" she requested. "I don't think Sportacus would want you to do that, either."

                "Got it, kid," he said, giving her a thumbs up. "No harrassing the villain."

                Stephanie nodded, and ran off after Trixie.

                He stared after her, blinking back tears. That was SO sweet. But, what did she mean? Sportacus wouldn't want people to be mean to him? Why would he care about-

                "Woah, cool!" he heard from behind him, and he whirled around, dread sinking into his stomach.

                Pixel! He had gone around the wall while Robbie was talking to Stephanie, and he was standing IN FRONT OF THE VACUUM!

                Robbie held his breath, and slowly scuffled to the side so he could see the boy inspecting the tube of the Sports Sucker 3000. He thought about leaping over to stop him, but any move he made now might arouse suspicion, and he REALLY wasn't ready to knock out a child. _He's a technical-minded kid...maybe he'll just look at my masterful craftsmanship and then go away!_ he thought hopefully.

                But then Pixel look down in surprise. "Are those...Robbie Rotten's clothes?" he asked, bending down out of Robbie's view.

                "NonononononoNO! Don't look UNDER there!" he whispered low, clenching his fists, but it was hopeless.  All this scheming, planning, for NOTHING! He was SO CLOSE to pulling it off, dammit, and it was all going to be ruined ANYWAY, because he just wasn't careful enough.

 _I'm sorry, Sportacus,_ he thought, gritting his teeth against the inevitable.

                But, miraculously, Pixel just straightened back up, holding Robbie's fabric sensor. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I made some...improvements," Pixel muttered, tracing over the on switch with a finger.

                "PIXEL!" came Stephanie's voice, and he jolted out of his reverie and ran after her.

                "I'm coming, I'm coming!" he called, running away--with Robbie's fabric sensor.

                But Robbie could NOT bring himself to care one bit.

                In fact, he just about collapsed with relief when he saw the kid's red dreadlocks disappear into the distance. "PHEW!"

                He ran back around the wall, and changed back into his regular clothes.

                "I'm so _tired..."_ he grumbled. walking over to the nearest apple tree and kicking it as hard as he could. "I think I'll just go home after this."

                A single apple fell down at his feet, which he picked up and brushed off before preparing for his last bit of exertion of the day.

                Robbie dragged the Sports Sucker 3000 out of the way.  Sportacus was still in the EXACT position that Robbie had put him in earlier that day.

                "At least SOMEBODY is getting to relax around here," Robbie mumbled, kneeling down and pulling the blankie down off Sportacus' face. He prepared to affix the cap to his head, but paused. This was a GREAT excuse to touch his hair, but doing it while he was asleep was probably...a little...

                "I should uh. NOT. Do that," he decided.

                So instead, he brought the apple to Sportacus' mouth and kind of...shoved it in there. Like a pig at a barbecue. Sportacus blearily bit down.

                "Sportacus, Robbie whispered, urgently, tossing the rest of the apple over his shoulder. "Sportacus! Wake up!"

                The elf chewed for a few more seconds, then his eyes popped open, blazing with energy.

                "Where am I?!" he exclaimed, bounding up to a standing position, catching the purple blanket in his hand as it fell off his body.

                "Huh," he said, rubbing it with his thumb.

                "Give me THAT!" Robbie snarled, yanking it away and throwing the hat at him.

                "Quick, put this on, we haven't got much TIME!" he said, checking their surroundings again and motioning at Sportacus.

                Sportacus' eyes widened, and he brought a probing hand to his own head, gasping when it touched hair. "Wh-why do you have my-" he looked at Robbie, fear in his eyes, but wasted no time in securing the hat to his head, with the quick and nimble fingers of instinct.

                Finally.

                Robbie didn't even know his body could HOLD that much tension until it had escaped him.  He slumped against the wall with a sigh.

                "I know WHY I was asleep," Sportacus said slowly, a smile flitting across his otherwise troubled face as he gestured to Robbie. " _That's_ nothing new. But why are YOU the one waking me up? And Robbie--TELL me why you had my hat," he said, a pleading note in his voice as he took a step toward him.

                "Nobody SAW, if you're wondering, Sporta-KOOK," Robbie said, clambering his way to his feet again. Sportacus visibly relaxed, clutching his chest. "I was in the middle of a SCHEME, so I had to...ahem, make sure you were...out of the way.  But then," he sighed, "I accidentally...sucked your hat into this vacuum here, which flung it out into the woods-" he pointed at the back of the device, miming the hat's ascent and descent, "-so I had to...go...and get it. And I'm tired now. So I've decided...this scheme was a _wash._ "

                "Oh," Sportacus bounced on his heels, looking at the ground, thinking hard.

                "How long was I out?" he finally asked.

                "I don't know, but it felt like YEARS," Robbie lamented, dramatically putting a hand to his forehead. Sportacus crossed his arms and shook his head at his theatrics, smiling.

                "Those KIDS...they're getting too SMART!" he spat. "They were all trying to FIND you! They even figured out that _I_ had something to do with it! So, once I _miraculously_  found your HAT, I had to come up with ANOTHER SCHEME to DISTRACT and get RID of them, so I could get it back to you before THEY found you FIRST!" he sighed, and put a hand to his chest, where his heart was still beating hard from the ordeal.

                "Oh, _Sportacus,_  you should have SEEN them.  The computer boy-Pixel, was standing-" he walked three steps away from the wall and gestured at the ground. "RIGHT HERE!" he said, looking back and forth between the ground and Sportacus to see if he was _understanding_ what a CLOSE SHAVE it had been. "And YOU were..." he side stepped a couple times so he was right against the wall, "Right THERE!" he threw his arms toward the ground where Sportacus had been lying. He fell against the wall, rubbing his temples. "I have NEVER been MORE STRESSED OUT in my LIFE."

                Sportacus looked at Robbie curiously. "You...did all that...just so the kids wouldn't see...?" he pointed at the side of his hat.

                "Well-I-you-" Robbie gestured around helplessly, then shrugged. "You TOLD me not to tell them?"

                "I-" Sportacus choked, eyes welling up with tears.  Robbie stiffened. Did he do something wrong?

                But no, Sportacus stepped forward and hugged him around the middle.

                "That just..." he muttered into his chest, breath hitching, "it just means a _lot,_ Robbie," he said thickly. "That you'd do that for me."

                Robbie's brain whited out, and dizzily faded back in.

_Oh._

                His memory HADN'T been faulty.

                Sportacus' hugs _were_ that good.

                PERFECT, in fact. His tight grip was melting all of Robbie's stress clean away. He placed his own hands gently on Sportacus' shoulderblades.

                Then he shook his head, and awkwardly turned the touch into a back pat, with both hands at once. "You uh...you KNOW that _I'm_ the one who knocked you out in the first place...right?"

                Sportacus only tightened his grip, Robbie's spine releasing a crack. "I know."

                Okay, the moment was over, Robbie was clear-headed enough to panic again. His heart rate was quickening DIRECTLY in front of Sportacus' ear, and no matter how much he didn't want to, that meant he needed to disentangle IMMEDIATELY.

                Luckily, the crystal made that decision for him by beeping between them.

                Sportacus gasped and let go of Robbie at light speed. "Someone's in _trouble!"_ he said, just as horrified as he was EVERY SINGLE TIME, and he bounded away.

                Robbie watched him go with an honest to god ACHE in his chest.

-

                "Hello, Mr. Mayor?"

                "Why hello, who are you?"

                "Well, my name is Robin X, Private Investigator, and I would like to ask about the emergency preparedness protocols in this town, and specifically about programs that teach these skills to children..."

-

                 Robbie descended back into his lair, moving slowly, exhausted after his extremely full day. He trudged across the floor, dragging his feet, kicking bits of metal feebly out of his way.

                He glanced up at his disguise tubes as he made his way to his chair, catching sight of an old favorite.

                "Ah, yes, my Sportacus disguise," he said, sighing. That was one of the early ones, where he tried to convince the entire town that HE was Sportacus. It almost succeeded, too, which was probably more concerning than anything else. That was also, he remembered, one of the first times he had ever touched Sportacus, trying to make him dance.

                "And to think, I thought NOTHING of it at the time," he grumbled, rubbing his own arms. "The good old days," he said, falling into his chair with a sigh.

                And then his heart dropped as his eyes popped open.

                He swivelled his chair around so fast that it knocked his end table over with a crash, but he didn't care about that. He had fully RECOGNIZED what he was looking at, through the glass of his disguise tube.

                His Sportacus disguise.

                That was in his lair this entire time.

                THAT.

                HAD.

                A.

                HAT.

                 Robbie closed his eyes, wishing he could reach inside and PERSONALLY STRANGLE his own hippocampus for forgetting about THAT obvious solution, but decided against brain surgery at that particular moment.  He settled for throttling an imaginary neck in front of him, and grumpily slumping deeper into the chair.

                Maybe he would invent a machine that would allow him to strangle parts of his brain when they messed up.  Or maybe his heart, whenever it did that flippity thing.  Or maybe, he would just go straight for his feelings for Sportacus, since THEY were why he was in this whole mess in the first pla-

                Robbie gasped.

                "What if I...made a machine that could get RID of my CRUSH?" he said, looking around. "Well, if those feelings are IN there...that means they can come OUT, right?" The logic seemed sound, so why not? He had certainly made...weirder things before. Could he pull it off?

                He jumped out of his chair, exhaustion forgotten.

                "Why did I waste my time on THESE," he pointed to all the random contraptions laying around on the floor, "When I could have just INVENTED a machine that will SUCK OUT all of these pesky feelings!"

                He cackled gleefully, clapping his hands together as he stepped with high knees over to his lab table. "This will be my greatest invention yet!" he declared, picking up a pencil and getting to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robbie is...surprisingly ride-or-die, once trust is built. I want him to be my friend too
> 
> It's been more than a month I know but here is chapter five! Thank you for being patient with me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie builds a machine to suck out his feelings, which turns out to be a lot harder than he thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is a meltdown (not of the sugar kind), minor SIB as a result of that meltdown.  
> additional warning: this chapter is really, really long.

                Robbie felt better than he had in MONTHS.

                Not that his crush was gone, far from it, but he felt so much better knowing that at least he was DOING something about it.  And plus, he had always RELISHED the joy that came from throwing himself into his work, so it was really a two-birds-with-one-stone sort of deal.

                "I'll be the GREATEST villain, as long as I am FREE, of all those PESKY FEELINGS, that SPORTY gave to me!" he sang as he worked, drawing up the plans and then tossing them up into the air just for fun.

                "Wait a minute," he said, holding a finger in the air as his blueprints came falling down around him, "I don't want to do any unnecessary INVENTION WORK if I don't HAVE TO. Time to...make a call," he said, settling into his chair and dialing the number that he had memorized many years ago.

                "Hello, Inventor's Catalogue Help Line, what can I do for you?" came a familiar, chirping voice from the telephone.

                "Hello, do you have anything that can...remove a-um-ahem... _feelings_?" He asked conspiratorily, curling the telephone cord in his fingers.

                "Why yes sir, we do!" she said brightly.

                "Excellent, I need one of those!" He exclaimed.

                "Okay, but I must warn you-it's, uh...some assembly required," she said.

                His smile dropped. "What? Some assembly REQUIRED??" he repeated.

                "That's all we have, sir," she sighed.

                "Okay, okay, what have you got?" He grumbled.

                "Well, it's called the Build-It-Yourself Feelings Extractor kit, and we just got a new shipment in stock!"

                "Build it yourself...?" He said in disgust, "But I'm LAZY! Don't you have anything that's more...put together??"

                "I'm afraid that if you're looking for a feelings extractor, sir, this is all we have," she said.

                "Alright..." he sighed, "I'll take the build it yourself kit."

                "Excellent, and will you be paying cash or card?"

                "Just put it on my tab," he said, "It's Robbie Rotten."

                "Oh, Mr. Rotten!  No problem, we will send it off right away."

-

                "ALL-RIGHT!" he exclaimed, when the enormous box fell down into his lair through the ceiling, he tore it open excitedly.

                "We haaaave...." he said, pulling out the first item, "a FEELINGS RECEPTACLE! PERFECT!" he exclaimed, inspecting the clear blue oval with the trapezoidal base.  Inside, a spider's web of wires and what looked like fiber optics were tangled around each other. He looked at them for a second, mesmerized, and then placed it down gently in favor of pulling out the second item with a flourish.

                "A BRAINWAVE MANIPULATOR!" he exclaimed.  This one looked a lot like some sort of multi-legged bug the size of a brick, with the legs being wires and plugs.  "Never leave home without one of THOSE," he joked, setting it aside and pulling out the final object.

                "And...a VACCUUM!!" he paused and looked down. "A vacuum?! I already HAVE one of those. Waste of money..." he grumbled.

                So he brought the three items to his lab table, and put them together.

                Or at least, he TRIED. None of the plugs on the brainwave manipulator were compatible with the feelings receptacle, and NEITHER of those two things would connect with the vacuum tube.  So he did his best to connect the three items together, using some creative looping and a VERY strong make-it-fit philosophy. 

                It was absolutely the saddest device that Robbie had ever seen.

                "Might as well be made out of string and CHEWING gum," he grumbled, "What a ripoff! I can't even find an ON switch on ANY of them!"

                "There's GOT to be instructions around here somewhere," he said, picking up the box and looking underneath.  Instead of encountering instructions, he encountered a warning printed on the bottom, which he read aloud.

                "Let's see here, 'Warning. Has never been successfully assembled bef-NEVER BEEN SUCCESSFULLY ASSEMBLED BEFORE??" he exclaimed, outraged. "What kind of kit IS this???"

                He shook himself, and refocused. "Think positive, Robbie," he told himself, and then his face lit up with a smile.

                "Ah, well then!  I'm just going to have to apply my...ROTTEN genius to it," he said, tugging on the bottom of his vest.  "I, Robbie Rotten, will be the FIRST PERSON EVER to assemble this machine!! Ha-HA!" HE declared. "Because...I am a GENIUS! And," his smile turned to a grimace, "I REALLY NEED this to WORK!" he said, gasping through gritted teeth.

                "Time to hit the books," and spun around, stomping on one of the buttons on the ground.

                The library lever popped up out of nowhere and slapped him in the butt, hard enough for him to go sprawling out on the ground.

                "Oww," he said, annoyed, as he rubbed his poor backside. But he didn't dwell on the pain long, he had a LEVER to throw.

                And he did, with great pleasure.

                The FSSSSHHHHH sound of hydraulics and steam permeated the lair as one of the walls of his lair slowly flipped around, revealing Robbie's single large bookshelf that constituted his library.  

                "Yes!" he boomed, spinning around once before kicking off his shoes and taking a running sock-slide across the floor, laughing as he went until-

                CRASH!

                Into the bookshelf!!

                Robbie sheltered his head with his arms as book after book fell, creating a little mountain that he had to spring from like a volcanic eruption.  He spit out a thin book that had somehow gotten INTO HIS MOUTH, and picked up one of the books that was trapping his body.

                "BLAGH," he sputtered, trying to get the taste of...BOOK out of his mouth as he thumbed idly through the one in his hand.

                "This one is...NOT what I need," he realized, tossing it over his shoulder. "What I REALLY need," he said, rummaging around, "is a book that will tell me how these blasted parts fit together.  Or even, just something that has to do with feelings..." he said, selecting a book.

                "Brain Surgery For Dummies? No, no," he rejected, tossing the book over his shoulder.

                "Hmm, How To Get In Touch With Your Emotions For Dummies..." he mumbled, then shook his head. "Nah. I don't want to TOUCH them, I want to REMOVE them."

                "Mapping The Brain: How The Brain Is Like A Circuit Board," he mused, then blew the dust off of the bottom. "For Dummies!" he exclaimed excitedly. He grasped the book tightly to his chest and clambered his way out of the pile of other books. "I need to...brush up on my circuit skills anyway!"

                He plopped the book down on the lab table, thumbing through it until he found himself a diagram, and started to work.

-

                "This book is reminding me of my college days," he sighed, squinting at the diagrams, "Specifically, that I HATE WORKING WITH CIRCUITS!!!"

                It had been so many years since he actually HAD to, that he had completely forgotten how CONFUSING it all was. He had never quite gotten the hang of pure circuits, he had always preferred to find workarounds instead.   All those little squares? Tiny wires?? No, no, Robbie Rotten dealt in BIG, SWEEPING ARCHITECTURE, with HAMMERS and WELDING TORCHES and FABRICATION.

                "All this...STUFF," he said, pressing two fists full of red wires to his head and grimacing, "Is WAY TOO SMALL for my ENORMOUS brain!"

                But he didn't give up. He worked on it well into the night, hardly even stopping for breath until he found himself seeing double.

                "Hm..." he said, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe I will go get a little snack!" he said, and he had taken a single step toward the kitchen when he was slammed with a wave of exhaustion.  He staggered backwards into his chair and fell straight asleep.

-

                Bad emotions, bad colors, vague, swirling panic, the notion that SOMETHING WAS COMING TO GET HIM BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW WHERE IT WAS COMING FROM-

                Robbie screamed, vaulting awake from his nightmare.  He felt like the lair was simultaneously too large and empty and far, far too small.

                He needed fresh air, and there was only one place that he could get it.

-

                Sportacus flipped down to billboard level from his ship as usual, and plopped himself right next to Robbie.

                "What happened in your lab today?" he asked brightly.

                "It's called a LAIR, you-you Sporta-IMBECILE," he said scathingly. Sportacus blinked.

                "And ANOTHER THING, I..." he started, but absolutely deflated at the look on Sportacus' face.  He looked...betrayed, and confused, and Robbie couldn't continue his biting rant. "I just...couldn't...it's better," he mumbled.

                "Better?" Sportcus prompted.

                "Yes, better! Better to be out here when everyone else is asleep. Not being loud, you see?" He said, gesturing around.

                Sportacus nodded. "It's true, it is very peaceful," he agreed, looking out at the moon again.

                But he was fidgeting, turning his hands over and over, like he was going to say something else.

                "But Robbie," he finally said, "I know you're afraid of heights, and only climb up here when it's...well... _serious_. What...what happened?" he asked.

                Robbie crossed his arms, preparing for a truly dazzling none-of-your-business scowl, but when he turned to Sportacus, who looked SO concerned, he did something unexpected.

                He told the truth.

                "Ifeelsafeuphere," he said, words tumbling out in a rush.  

                Sportacus blinked, but recovered quickly. "Safe?" He said in disbelief.

                Robbie cleared his throat. "Well, sort of. Whatever's down there," he pointed at the approximate location of his lair beneath the surface, "Can't get me up here. Be-CAUSE, you see, I can barely get MYSELF up here."

                "You can't get down, either," Sportacus pointed out amusedly.

                "I know that!" Robbie snapped.  "I never said it was PERFECT, just that it was...safe."

                They sat in silence for a moment.  Robbie looked pointedly out at the moon, aggressively ignoring the elf next to him, but it was no use.  He could feel Sportacus' concerned gaze drilling into him, even if he couldn't see it.

                And damn it all, it was VERY effective.

                "Okay, okay!" he exclaimed suddenly, explosively. "I had..." he sighed, shoulders slumping, "I had a nightmare. Awful stuff. Now, will you get me down?"

                Sportacus nodded once. "Ladder!" he called, jumping to his feet, and it obediently unfolded to its full length.

                Sportacus held out his hand, and Robbie didn't hesitate to take it. He pulled him up to a standing position, and grabbed him around the middle.

                That would have been bad ENOUGH, but then Sportacus just...FROZE there, one hand on the ladder, the other tight around Robbie's slender waist.  

                Robbie stiffened as his heart skipped a beat.

                He was FAR. TOO. CLOSE.

                Their heads were inches apart, he could feel Sportacus BREATHING against him, for god's sake!  His hands itched to touch him, but he clenched his fists hard enough to dig his nails into his palm.  He could also feel Sportacus LOOKING at him, and it was messing with his breathing. _Look at something else look at ANYTHING else,_ he chanted internally, choosing his own two feet. If he looked at Sportacus now, he would probably do something...stupid.

                "You know, If you wanted to, you could talk to me," Sportacus said quietly, almost directly into Robbie's ear. "I will listen."

                "W-whatever," Robbie mumbled. The arm securing him squeezed a little. Was this a hug? Probably not.  It sent a shiver down his spine anyway, that is until Sportacus threw him over his shoulder and started their descent.

                Once at ground level, Sportacus gently set Robbie down on his feet. "See you next time you try to kick me out of town," he winked, then did a single twisting backflip onto the ladder, climbing it with his literally inhuman speed.

                That made Robbie...FEEL things, most notably a glow expanding in his chest.

                He tried to grab that glow, to squash it, but all he managed to do was bunch up his shirt. "Ugh, I can't build that machine fast ENOUGH!" he grumbled,  and jumped back down into his lair, which he had to admit, seemed...less scary than it did when he left.

                "I guess Sportaflop DID save me...stupid Sportaloser and his stupid caring and his-" he cut himself off with a huge yawn. "Nevermind," he said sleepily, and fell asleep in his chair.

                He awoke again, much later on, during the day at some point. Not that he could see any sunlight, but the sound of children yelling through his periscope speaker was usually a good indicator that the sun was out.

                He pulled it down to take a look.

                Sure enough, there were all of the screaming kids--playing a game on the basketball court. All except for Pixel, who looked like he was getting some advice from Sportacus off to the side.

                Robbie zoomed in on that.

                "You know what I would say, Pixel?" Sportacus was saying kindly, getting down to Pixel's level and putting a hand on his shoulder.

                "What?" Pixel asked in a hushed tone, eyes wide.

                Sportacus looked around, barely concealing a grin. "Two heads," he said, bumping his head affectionately against Pixel's mop of red hair, "Are better than one!"

                Pixel giggled.

                Robbie clutched at his own heart.

                "OGH, that's not FAIR!" he grumbled, grimacing away from the periscope and stalking down the steps, fingers on his temples.

                He glanced at the table, filled with wires and parts and scribbled out drawings, and sighed.

                "I wish _I_ could ask somebody about this...mess," he said, sniffling. "But I am NOT telling any of THEM about my _feelings_ ," he grimaced. "I just got to do this on my own," he said, sitting down and continuing to tinker.

-

                A couple hours later, he heard Pixel's voice blaring through the speakers, and it made him jump a mile high.

                "WHY?!" he complained at the periscope's speaker, stalking up the steps to see for himself EXACTLY what all the commotion was about.

                "You said it yourself, Sportacus!" Pixel was saying, holding a whole bunch of blueprint scrolls, "Two heads ARE better than one!" He shuffled them around in his arms.  "So, I'm making a brain-er-print where I can copy my own brain into a computer, and ask MYSELF for advice!"

                Sportacus looked...apprehensive. But then again, he had VERY good reason to be apprehensive about Pixel's machines, considering how often they went haywire in the past.

                "Please remember, Pixel," he said, putting on his special SportaAdvice ToneTM, "That you have many good friends around you who will always be there to lend a hand. Or, a head!" he chuckled.

                "Thanks Sportacus!" he grinned.  "But I think me and Pixel 2.0 can handle it ourselves!"

                Robbie gasped and threw himself backwards as a GREAT IDEA slapped him in the brain.

                Backwards directly over the handrailing, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground.

                "What IF," he said slowly, as he climbed back up to his feet, "I STOLE the computer boy's brain machine and made it think of ideas for me! _He_ is good at screens and tiny wires and whatsits, maybe that would do it! That way, I can finish up this machine  and I don't. Have. To Tell. ANYBODY!"

                Robbie clapped his hands together with glee, then reigned himself back in. He didn't want to get carried away, and the plan forming in his head meant that he needed to get going on it.

                He threw a finger into the air. "It's...DISGUISE time."

                Excitement bubbled in his stomach, and while he WAS impatient to get started, he couldn't resist savoring one of his favorite routines.

                He ran up the stairs and stopped at the first diguise tube, showcasing a Peacock outfit. He wrinkled his nose.

                "Too showy."

                He took one big step forward, sliding his other foot up as he considered his next disguise. A maxi dress printed with sunflowers, and sleeves a mile wide.

                "Too...flowy," he said, wiggling his arms and fingers.

                He took another sliding step to the third tube, that held...his usual outfit.  

                "Hmm," he considered, and then clapped his hands twice to turn off the lights in his lair.

                The suit immediately shone with an eerie green glow.

                "Yup, too _glowy_ ," he sighed in the dark, clapping his hands twice more to bring back the lights, "Just as I suspected."

                The final tube held a thin leather catsuit, one that hugged tight to his body and was ideal for sneaking around.

                "Ahh! Yes!!" Robbie marveled, and THREW the lever with all his strength, its satisfying CLUNK noise signifying that the costume change was beginning, and he spun like a laughing top as the costume molded itself to him.

                Robbie skidded to a stop, and smoothed down his catsuit.

                "Well," he said, shaking his head slightly and giving a smug smirk, "a CAT burglar is on the loose!" he said, snickering at his own joke as he snuck up the ladder.

                The only snag in Robbie's plan? It was broad daylight. Robbie looked down at his catsuit.

                "Not my best decision," he admitted with a sigh. "No matter! I can still do this, because I am the MASTER of stealth," he cackled, humming his favorite sneaking tune, as he snuck up RIGHT below Pixel's window.

                Robbie looked up at Pixel's window and sighed.  Stingy had not broken his bad habit of stealing all of the good ladders around town, so he couldn't climb up there like he usually did. Instead, Robbie stared through the ground floor window to the living room.

                "Hmm, I'll go..." he muttered, trying to find a spot without furniture, "Right in front of THAT couch," he said.  He bent his knees slightly, closed his eyes, and snapped his fingers, disappearing from the outside in a puff of smoke.

                He reappeared inside the house, shaking off his slight disorientation, and looked for-

                 "Stairs!" he whispered excitedly, sneaking up them slowly at first, then tromping up them fast as his impatience got the better of him.

                He pushed open the door into Pixel's room and peeked around the door, checking for any little brats who would rat him out. "Empty!" he said, delighted, as he pushed the door open all the way.

                Even so, the room was still...crowded.  Pixel's bed was against one wall, and the other three were covered floor to ceiling with computer monitors, TVs, and other wall-mounted gadgets that Robbie couldn't even identify. Even under the desk was piles of discarded machinery and wires. The room was empty of humans, but the soft hum of machinery and blinking lights that came from half of the monitors made the room seem almost...alive.

                And it reminded Robbie of another problem.

                "I just realized," Robbie said with a gulp, "I have NO IDEA what this brain-thingy looks like."

                He walked over to one of the many, many monitors, and inspected it carefully. What would a copy of Pixel's brain look like? Would it look like those green words on a black background, scrolling endlessly? Would it look like that bright blue screen with white words on it? Would it look like this folding and twisting square, bouncing back and forth from side to side on the screen? If _that_ was it, then it was quite mesmerizing... 

                "Robbie?" Came Pixel's curious voice from behind him.

                "AAH!" he screeched, moving his hands defensively as he whirled around.  "No, no no, kid, I'm not HERE!" he cried, making a split-second decision and diving out the window.

                The SECOND STORY window.

                He had barely begun screaming when his descent was abruptly stopped by a pair of solid arms.

                "Hello Robbie!" Sportacus beamed, his smile shining just as brightly and just as annoyingly as the sun overhead.

                "SPORTA-" Robbie gasped, heart skipping several beats as he spluttered. "Get-put-put me BACK!" he finally snarled.

                Robbie moved up and down a couple inches as Sportacus shrugged, and looked up at Pixel's window. "Okay!" he said a bit too brightly, a sparkle of mischief in his eye, as he tossed Robbie upwards with all his strength.

                Robbie screamed as he flew up into the air and back through the window, crumpling onto Pixel's rug.

_Sportaflop is a MENACE,_  he thought, _But good God almighty, is he impressively strong._

                "Are you...done?" Pixel asked.

                Robbie didn't move his face from the rug as he answered with a muffled "Yes."

                "Good, because I wanted to show you something!" he said excitedly, seemingly...unconcerned at Robbie's breaking and entering in favor of rummaging through a few piles and tangles of wire.

                Robbie clambered to his feet and brushed himself off, when Pixel was shoving a very familiar device in his face.

                "Is this...is this my fabric sensor?" he asked in awe, turning the device over in his hands.

                "Yep! I couldn't really figure out how you made it, but..." Pixel chuckled, "I know programming well enough that I could at least connect a screen, and a couple of sensors! You really _should_ use screens more often, they're the BEST!" he said, bouncing excitedly as  as he touched the screen, and the device lit up.

                Robbie gasped as he swiped a finger over the smooth screen.  There were measurements! In numbers! Indications of type of fabric, exact distance to the decimeter, even an estimate of how LARGE the fabric piece was! Robbie pointed it at Pixel's bed, and immediately the device beeped and displayed all the information he could ever want about the boy's yellow duvet.

                "Wow," Robbie marveled breathily, swiping through the different options and measurements. It boggled his mind that Pixel had transformed this little device, that he had only made as a distraction, into something...incredible.

                "I-this is-er-uh-tha-"  Robbie spluttered, then shook his head thoroughly. "Thank-thank you, Pixel."

                Pixel beamed. "Anytime!"

                Robbie froze at his wording. "Anytime?" he asked cautiously.

                "Yeah, anytime," Pixel repeated, his brows furrowing underneath his visor.

                "Like-like even right now?" he asked, excitedly.

                Pixel tilted his head. "Right now?"

                "Yes! Right now!" Robbie exclaimed, clapping his hands together and giving Pixel a huge, winning smile.

                Pixel raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged. "Sure, I'm not doing anyth-wait, is this why you broke into my house?"

                Robbie reddened. "No, well-yes, but I-I had a question for you."

                "Yeah?"

                "Well, um...I was actually planning to ASK you..." he swallowed, he wasn't used to ASKING for things. SO much harder than stealing.  "Could I...BORROW your uh...brain-er-print?"

                "Well...you COULD, but..." Pixel sighed, "I haven't exactly figured out how to make it work yet."

                Robbie deflated a little.  "Oh."

                "Yeah," Pixel said, reaching out and touching one of his monitors that Robbie assumed was the prototype.  "I know motherboards, and capacitors, and transistors so well, but I just..." he sighed. "I don't know a lot about human brains."

                "Tell me about it," Robbie muttered. Pixel either ignored him or didn't hear him, he was still stroking the smooth plastic sides of the monitor in front of him.

                "Gosh," Pixel said,  "I just wish that brains were like...circuit boards!"

_How The Brain Is Like A Circuit Board_ , flashed across Robbie's mind, and he dropped the fabric sensor right on the ground.

                "Are you okay Robbie?"

                "I-you-" he stuttered as his brain shifted gears into a new plan. He smacked himself in the head to...loosen things up. "Come with me, kid," he said, striding for the door this time, "I think I have something that will help."

-

                As they got closer and closer to the entrance, Robbie was rethinking his decision to take Pixel along. For one, he had left it as a HUGE mess, because he was not expecting any visitors, and the kids of this town were VERY prone to...being in danger from their surroundings.  For two...he was a little afraid that Pixel would break something, or mess with the progress that he had been making.  _Maybe, I can keep him outside while I get the book!_  he thought as they walked around the billboard.

                "Okay kid," he said, grunting as he twisted open the latch and clambered inside, "You stay here, I'll go get it."

                He slid down the tube, and landed with an OOF! in the pile of books that he still hadn't cleaned up.

                "That was...uncomfortable," he said, getting to his feet and striding over to the table. "That book should be helpf-WAIT!" he said, freezing in place and holding a finger in the air, "If I give the book to HIM, then I can't use it MYSELF!" he said, clutching the book and looking around for a solution, when his eyes landed on-

                "The REPLICATOR!" he gasped, running over to the vending-machine-turned-replicator and slam dunking the book inside the chute on the top. The entire thing grumbled and shook as it worked, making two books out of one.

                Robbie crouched by the exit chute, waiting impatiently, not noticing the sounds of a human sliding down the pipe until it was too late.

                The books shot out at Robbie at the same time a FLUMP! came from the other corner of the room.

                "HOLY MEGABYTES! THIS IS SO COOL!" exclaimed a young voice behind him.  He whirled around, and saw that Pixel had come inside anyway.

                "Kid! You're not supposed to be in he-" he said, but Pixel was off like a shot. He had never even SEEN the kid move so fast before, as he sprinted up the stairs to the disguise tanks.

                "At least don't TOUCH anyth-" Robbie warned, but too late. Pixel's hand found the button that released the piano, startling him to take a step back.

                "COOL!!" he exclaimed, turning back to the stairs as he raced down, flapping his hands in excitement.

                Robbie couldn't bring himself to yell at him.  The pure joy emanating from the red-haired kid as he zig-zagged to every available object, marveling at each one, really made Robbie puff up with pride.

                "I never knew you had all this cool stuff, I never got a chance to really LOOK before with my camera droid and now I- did you MAKE this?!" he asked, pointing at Robbie's exploding sportscandy machine.

                "Why yes I did, kid," Robbie said smugly, "And I-"

                "Is that a BRAINWAVE MANIPULATOR?" Pixel interrupted, voice warbling with excitement as he started running toward the table with Robbie's prototype.

                "WHOA THERE!" Robbie said, reaching out an arm and scooping up Pixel as he ran by, spinning the boy around in the air to release the momentum.

                "I didn't bring you down here for the GRAND TOUR," he said, putting him back down on the ground, "I brought you down here because of THIS!" he said, holding the book high in the air with a flourish.

                Pixel craned his neck up at it. "What is it?"

                "It's a _book_ , genius," Robbie said, lowering it so the boy could see, "Read the title."

                "How The Brain Is Like A Circuit Bo-I JUST SAID THAT EARLIER!" he said, clapping his hands together. "This is PERFECT!!"

                "Yes, I know!" Robbie said, almost as excitedly before he cleared his throat and calmed himself. "Now take it and go, before you break something."

                Pixel bounced on the balls of his feet before he headed toward the ladder. "Thank you thank you THANK you!!" he said, voice crackling, and then he was up and out.

                "All part of my evil plan," he sighed fondly.

-

                The next day, while he was spying through his periscope, Robbie heard Pixel bragging about getting to go down to Robbie's lair.

                "Robbie's lair is so cool!" he was telling the other kids and Sportacus excitedly, and they were hanging on every word. "It has a big giant disguise machine that has a bunch of TUBES and a PIANO inside it and it has gigantic machinery and everything is BLUE and it's so awesome!! I kind of wish I could make big things like that."

                "You got to go down there? Lucky," Trixie said jealously.

                "Yeah!! He even let me borrow a book so I could finish my machine!!" he said, whipping it out.

                "Wow, really??" said the other kids, poring over it.

                "Can you even understand these diagrams?" asked Stephanie. "They look so...so complicated!"

                "It's pretty hard, but I think I get the gist of how it works," Pixel said, flipping through the pages. "Look, this one is a direct translation of the hippocampus into a series of breadboards!! I didn't even know you could DO that!"

                "You see, Pixel?" Sportacus said, taking advantage of the moment. "You and Robbie put your heads together, and now you have something that you would not have had if you had just done it yourself.  Knowledge is meant to be shared among friends!"

                "Oh and Sportacus," Pixel said, as if he had just remembered something, "He said he wanted to use my brain-er-print, when it was done. Why do you think that is?"

                "I don't..I don't know," Sportacus said slowly, but then smiled, "But do you know what? I have a feeling, that we will find out soon enough."

                Robbie snorted. "Not if I can help it."

                Robbie couldn't really understand why his vision was swimming, though. Must be his sleep deprived state, activating his tear ducts.  EVERYTHING was making him emotional. Especially the machine, which was NOT coming together well.  He wiped his eyes and stalked down the stairs and over to his work station, strewn with parts, and picked up the smallest hammer he owned.

                "Tiny hammer for a tiny project," he shrugged, and gave his prototype a little tap.

-

                It had been FOUR DAYS. And things were coming to a head down in Robbie's lair.  None of the prototypes had come even CLOSE to working, and staring at those circuit diagrams just made Robbie's head hurt. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to wrap his brain around them, he was always MISSING something!

                "I've NEVER worked on one invention this long before!" Robbie said, in distress. "They'll come and take away my Certified Genius Card!"

                So, he tried one last thing.

                "The Old Rotten Way," he said, grinning. Or Grimacing. Whichever, he didn't care at this point. "When in doubt, HIT IT WITH A HAMMER!" he bellowed, plucking the largest hammer off the floor and swinging it into his device.

                Hit number one: impressive dent, didn't solve anything.

                Hit number two: an even MORE impressive dent, but still didn't solve anything.

                Hit number three: too hard. Robbie heard the snapping sound of...something important in there.

                He was stuck. Freedom from his feelings was SO CLOSE, yet out of his reach. He screamed in frustration, and the machine ALSO screamed in frustration.

                Wait no, that was the sound of pressure building up!

                "NOT TODAY!" Robbie leaped over his lab table in one leap and sprinted up the ladder without looking back to see what the damage would be.

                As he climbed up the back of the billboard, because of COURSE he was climbing that thing again, he slipped, and scraped his arm against one of the supports.

                No blood. Hardly even a welt.

                But it was the absolute LAST STRAW.

                His vision swam with tears as he perched himself on the billboard again. Everything was just Too MUCH, and his chest felt like it was caving in on him. One elbow hooked around a light fixture, he ground his teeth, fists clenching so hard they were shaking, giving himself two sharp slaps to the forehead.

_Stupid, stupid stupid STUPID STUPID-_

                "Robbie?" came Sportacus' voice over the beeping of his crystal. Robbie froze, and turned a wild eyed gaze onto Sportacus. He looked horrified. "What's happening?"

                But Robbie couldn't speak, every time he tried between ragged breaths, all that came out was a VERY FRUSTRATED NOISE, somewhere between a whine and a snarl.

                Which probably sounded pretty bad, judging by the look on Sportacus' face.

                "Robbie!" he said desperately, looking pained.

                He could only shake his head, grabbing his hair and tearing at it.

                "It doesn't-it doesn't-" he stuttered, then let out another yell of frustration, slapping himself on the forehead twice more.

                At the moment, Robbie just HATED. He hated a lot of things, he hated how stupid he felt, he hated the way he was losing control, he hated that Sportacus was seeing him have a meltdown, he hated the way he felt like a CHILD, he hated how even his own voice grated on his ears, and he hated that there was nothing that anyone could do to help him.

                But eventually, he unclenched his jaw and forced out: "S-scraped my arm on the way up here."

                "Must have hurt a lot," Sportacus said sympathetically.

                "Not really," he said, showing him the quickly-fading welt.

                "Oh," Sportacus frowned, deep in thought. "Was there...anything else? That happened tonight?" He asked , tone casual but a slight hesitancy betrayed his nervousness.

                "What HASNT happened!!" Robbie exploded. "I try-I-I-" he snarled again, losing words, and dropped his head into his hands.  

                "Would you like me to help you get down?"

                Robbie gasped and flinched away from Sportacus' outstretched hand.  He wasn't ready for that amount of...physical contact all at once, so he folded into himself even tighter.

                Sportacus withdrew his hand like it had been burned and they sat in silence for a few moments until Robbie broke it.

                "It doesn't work," Robbie said dully.

                Sportacus cocked his head to the side.  "What doesnt work?"

                "Invention," Robbie said numbly. God, was he tired. Words were harder than they had a right to be, he pulled his blankie out of his pocket and stroked it. "My latest... my greatest... invention.  It doesn't...work. "

                "Oh," Sportacus said, kicking his legs against the sign.

                The silence stretched out again while Robbie rhythmically stroked his blankie.

                "What was...what was it supposed to do?" Sportacus asked.

                "I can't just TELL you, it'd-"

                "Ruin the scheme, right, sorry," Sportacus completed, falling silent again.

                "I...COULD tell you that..." Robbie searched his entire brain for some non-spoilery description of what he was doing. "It might be the most complicated thing I've ever made."

                "Really?"

                "I uh...MIGHT be inventing...a new kind of brain science?"

                Sportacus gave a low whistle. "Wow. How long have you been working on it?"

                "Hm? About four days now."

                "Four DAYS?!" Sportacus gasped in disbelief.

                "I KNOW!" Robbie lamented, "It's taking FOREVER and I-" he cut off, boiling over again with another frustrated growl. He slumped, and pressed his hands against his eyes.

                "I should just give up," he said muffledly, tears forming and pressing into his palms.

                Sportacus was quiet again. Well, mostly quiet. What was that thumping noise?

                He peeked over at him.  Sportacus was hanging off the front of the billboard by his fingers, doing pull ups, a serious frown on his face until he noticed Robbie looking at him.

                "Sorry," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I can't think when I'm sitting still."

                "No, no, continue," Robbie said, sighing, waving a hand at him before placing his head back in his hands, "I'll just be here."

                He let his mind go blank, listening to Sportacus' feet knock against the sign every so often.

                After a while, they stopped.

                "Robbie," Sportacus said carefully, clambering back up to a sitting position, "I think you should not give up on your invention."

                Robbie slumped even more. "Why not. I can't do anything right, and this just proves it."

                "Oh Robbie," he breathed, "That's not true at all! I know you are very, very smart, smarter than most, and if you keep trying..." he gestured, "you will make it work! I..." he paused and then barreled on, "I know that most of your inventions are made AGAINST me but...still, I am often so impressed by your ability to come up with all these  complicated and specific machines and have them ready within HOURS. But if you're inventing...what did you say? A new area of science? That sounds _pretty_ complicated! Taking your time...might be what is needed! In this case, anyway."

                Robbie let the words wash over him, before he tried to unpack their meaning. But when he did...

                "You're _right,"_ he admitted, sniffling and wiping the tears from his face.

                "Boy," he sighed, "I feel like an _idiot._ I just...completely melted down, in FRONT of you, over something as simple as-as-as...impatience." his voice sounded dull, even to his own ears.

                "It's okay, Robbie," Sportacus said softly. "I know just as well as you that meltdowns are not exactly something one chooses to do."

                Robbie actually snorted at that one. "I WISH my meltdowns were just me passing out for a while."

                "That's not- mine are not exactly so," Sportacus said, shifting, "I am never TRULY asleep. I border on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, in the twilight area of consciousness. Not enough energy to be awake, but the sugar keeps me from actually...'passing out', as you say, properly."

                Oh.

                "I'm...sorry," Robbie said numbly. "I never knew."

                "Don't worry about me!" Sportacus said, smiling brightly. "One bite of sportscandy, always brings me _right_ back."

                Robbie wanted to protest that, because that was NOT fine, but he couldn't really...figure out how.  So he filed that away for another time, and put his head back into his hands, sighing.

                The worst of it was pretty much over, but the tension, the sensitivity, would not be going away anytime soon. If Sportacus helped him down, the contact would set his skin burning and possibly set him off again.  Either way, it would be unpleasant, and he would rather not associate that feeling with Sportacus touching him.

                He knew what he had to do, in order to at least handle touch again.  There was an insistent urge burning at the back of his mind, and satisfying it would probably calm him enough to get down.

                But it was going to be EMBARRASSING.

_Oh, what the hell,_ he thought.   _I already HAD the meltdown, what more damage to my reputation could I even DO at this point?_

                But still...

                "I'm going to have to do...a thing," Robbie said, carefully avoiding looking at Sportacus, "Before you can help me get down.  It's kind of...embarrassing."

                "Would you like me to go, or-?"

                Robbie considered, but he didn't particularly want to be left alone up there.  "You can stay, on one condition," he looked Sportacus in the face. " _Don't_ look at me weird. Do you PROMISE?"

                Sportacus nodded. "Promise," he said solemnly.

                Robbie looped his arms around the light fixture, securing himself, and then tested how far back he could lean without feeling like he was going to fall off. Far enough.

                He tested forward. _Alright. Got the parameters. Let's begin._

                He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth, slowly at first, but with an increasing tempo to match the song that was playing in an endless loop in his head.  It had been looping in there for the past few minutes, and there was no way for it to stop pressing on his skull other than to let it out through his mouth, at twice the tempo as the song should be.

                "Serðu alfa sitja' og gera ekki neitt..."

                It took a couple renditions, but the horrible residual tension inside Robbie started to fade.

                "Okay," he said, heaving a sigh, "I'm good. I've been better, but I'm good."

                Sportacus was staring at Robbie with what looked like shock.

                "Robbie," he said slowly, "That MELODY."

                "Yeah it's...it's Number Nine's song," Robbie confirmed, reddening. "It's how he taught us how to say his name. Embarrassing, I know, but I do not have the energy to be defensive.  You elves are MENACES with your catchy songs, you know."

                "No, it's-it's not THAT," Sportacus said, "It's-that's-that's an _elf call._ "

                Robbie blinked. "A what?"

                "An elf call? That song, he-he made it into a CALLING CARD I-" he broke off, whistling a part of the melody. "That part, it's sort of like-like a location spell, but in reverse, we-we don't really use them much anymore, not those of us who have crystals, but-"

                Sportacus, flustered, trying to explain an elven concept in English, was VERY cute. But Robbie had a more pressing issue than his internal monologue calling Sportacus "cute".

                "That means he could...KNOW whenever anybody sung it?!"

                Sportacus nodded. "Exactly."

                "OH THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING," Robbie lamented, grabbing at his face. "IT GETS STUCK IN MY HEAD ALL THE TIME!"

                "It's okay," Sportacus said. "Being back in Iceland, he is...probably too far away to hear you. It's a brief magical connection, much like the crystals, it's meant to gather all elves into the place where you are. Since he was the only elf in THIS country, you can see that it would be effective for him. NOW I understand why I always saw those flashes of-" Sportacus cut off, a blush spreading across his face.

                Pause. Rewind. Fastforward.

                SPORTACUS WAS AN ELF TOO.

                "You...I..." Robbie stuttered, waving his arms back and forth from his own chest to Sportacus. Sportacus didn't say anything, he just looked at the ground as his face reddened even more.

                Robbie put his head in his hands and let out a dramatic groan. "Are there any OTHER ways that a human can embarrass himself in front of an elf?? And, if you DON'T MIND, could you tell me how many of them I have PERSONALLY checked off??" he asked, putting his face in his hands.

                Sportacus patted his shoulder.

                "Thank you for comforting me in this EXTREMELY distressing time," he said dramatically, suddenly aware that he in fact...could handle touch now. Very much so.

                They could get down at any time.  

                But Sportacus was chuckling about something, and Robbie HAD to know what it was.

                "What?" he asked.

                "I can't believe he taught you all that song, is all," he said, "We usually don't like to let humans KNOW about that. Teaching a bunch of humans that song is like...it's like...well, you're not supposed to. It's like he wanted to...know exactly whenever you were talking about him."

                Robbie snorted. "Yep. That's Íþróttaálfurinn for you. He liked to just...POP UP wherever you least expected to see him.  Gave me a thousand heart attacks at the ripe old age of nine."

                Sportacus let out a giggle again.

                "What is it?" Robbie asked, a smile tugging at his own lips despite himself.

                "It's...it's just funny, you know, to hear you say that," he said, smiling into the distance, "Back in Iceland, they call _me_ Íþróttaálfurinn too."

                "Hm," Robbie said, tapping his chin with a hand, "So it's a title, of sorts. Why don't you go by it here?"

                "Simple reason, really-I've noticed that kids who speak English have a VERY hard time with it."

                Robbie blinked. "So you chose...a new name for yourself."

                "Yes."

                "ANYTHING you wanted."

                "Yes."

                "And you picked SPORTACUS??" Robbie gasped in disbelief, unable to stifle a snort of laughter.

                Sportacus looked mildly affronted. "What's wrong with it? It evokes the gymnastic traditions of the ancient Greeks, which are similar to some of our own Elven traditions, but _also_ emphasizes-why are you laughing?"

                Robbie wasn't just laughing. Robbie was LAUGHING. His earlier stress forgotten, he laughed until his stomach hurt and he was gasping for breath.

                "SPORTACUS. YOUR NAME. IS SPORTACUS. And you...you CHOSE it that way!" he choked out, unable to explain further for laughter. Through his blurry vision, he could see Sportacus frowning.

                "Oh...oh goodness me," he said, wiping at his eyes and blinking rapidly. "You're ALMOST as bad at this as my DAD."

                "What's wrong with Sportacus?" Sportacus asked defensively.

                "NOTHING'S wrong with 'Sporta-KOOS'," Robbie mocked. "Except...I just..." he stifled a laugh and cleared his throat. "Sometimes I just remember that your name is a combination of SPARTACUS and SPORTS AND I-" he broke out into a fresh peal of laughter. Sportacus humphed.

                "Sportacus," Robbie said, shaking his head, "You are _just_...RI-DICULOUS,"

                "What?!" Sportacus laughed playfully. "This coming from ROBBIE ROTTEN?"

                "Hey," Robbie said, pointing a finger at Sportacus, "I was BORN a Rotten. That particular terrible choice was my DAD'S, don't pin it on ME, SportaPUN."

                "Right, right, you said that your dad chose his name.  What was it before?"

                Robbie's smile suddenly dropped. He wasn't about to tell him about...

                "Suffice to say," he said carefully, "It was...EVEN WORSE."

                Sportacus looked curious, but dropped the subject.

                Phew.

                Robbie cleared his throat. "Anyway. Why not just go with SPORTS Elf? That's what it actually means, anyway."

                Sportacus looked down. "It's the elf part."

                "What's...what's wrong with elf? It IS what you ARE," Robbie said, shrugging.

                "Oh Robbie, if only everyone thought like that," Sportacus sighed. "I was always uncomfortable showing humans that I am an elf.  And many here just...do not believe in elves anyway! And what they DO believe in," Sportacus looked angrily off into the distance, "Is NOT accurate."

                Robbie snorted with laughter. "Didn't want to be called Santa's little helper?"

                "I'm _serious,_ Robbie.  I don't know how old you were before you moved here, but..." he seemed to be struggling. "Sometimes...people...don't like elves, very much. They think...they think we take their children."

                Robbie's eyes widened. "Do you?" he asked, conspiratorially, before he thought.

                That was a mistake. Sportacus' features blazed with anger. "I would NEVER," he downright growled, gesturing sharply. Robbie flinched away from him with a choked "ImSORRY-!"

                Sportacus blinked, remembered himself, and softened again, looking a strange mix of horrified and concerned.

                "I'm sorry, Robbie," he said, laying a comforting hand on his arm."I did not mean to scare you. But that's something that I...I would never, ever..."

                He sighed, and took off his hat, staring at it. "See, that's what I'm talking about.  Elves...elves can be...frightening creatures. Many of the heroes have been known, and praised, for their intimidation of humans. I know I _could_ be, if I wanted, but I never _wanted_ to be like that. I want you all to be healthy! " he said, gesturing emphatically with the fist holding his hat, "But I wanted you to be healthy because you WANT to be, not because the elves will _get_ you if you don't!"

                Robbie was glad for the opportunity to see his hair again, but snapped his attention back on what Sportacus was saying.

                "Tell me, what do you remember of number nine?" Sportacus asked.

                "What? Annoying,"  Robbie answered immediately.

                Sportacus rolled his eyes. " _Beyond_ that."

                "VERY annoying."

                "RO-bbie," Sportacus chided gently.

                "Okay, okay. he was like...a tornado. And NOT just because of the flipping and the flopping and the WSSHT! WSHHT! WSSHT!" he demonstrated, waving his hands around in an approximation of the signature move. "He would just barge in on you, at random, and tell you how to be healthy, and then leave! He was...WEIRD. But people listened to him! He once told a kid to eat raw fish, and he DID! He was SO sick afterwards!  He once made a FLOWER grow out of my HEAD!"

                Sportacus snorted with laughter into his palm.

                "What's funny about THAT, SportaGIGGLE?" Robbie asked, crossing his arms.

                "It's...it's just a common elf prank," he said, shaking his head. "A very...VERY popular elf prank. I used to do it to my classmates all the time!"

                "Oh, he WOULD," Robbie grumbled. "Oh, and once, he crawled out of my friend's TV!"

                Sportacus stifled another giggle.

                "IT'S NOT FUNNY, SPORTAFLOP!"

                "It _is_!" Sportacus argued, laughing again. "You know, I _try_ to be a good example for the kids, but in general, an elven sense of humor is a whole lot more like Trixie's than I care to admit."

                Robbie rolled his eyes. "Why did you even ask me about him in the first place?"

                "Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, Robbie's heart fluttering. "It was because...he is regarded as a great hero, among the elves, for the reasons you stated. Never staying in one place too long, always keeping himself shrouded in mystery, teaching humans right from wrong but never getting too involved." he looked down.

                "You're not like that," Robbie observed.

                "Don't _remind_ me," Sportacus chuckled, "It's hard to adhere to that standard, though, when you're the only one of your species in the entire country."

                "But," Sportacus said carefully, putting his hat back on his head, "No matter what anyone back home thinks, I do NOT regret the bonds that I have created with everyone in this little town. And I hope that all of you don't regret it either."

                "Of COURSE not," Robbie scoffed, "The little brats simply ADORE you."

                "Really?"

                "Are you KIDDING, Sportaflop? Have you even LOOKED at the candy boy lately?"

                "Ziggy," Sportacus reminded.

                "Yes, whatever. He adores you. They ALL do. Because you're so...damn...HELPFUL. And nice," he admitted, pulling the words excruciatingly from his mouth, "And if I have to deliver any more compliments to you, I might just throw myself off this billboard," he shuddered.

                "Well, let's not have _that_ happen," Sportacus said, smiling gently, "But thanks."

                God, he smiled a LOT.  Robbie always had to make an EFFORT to twist his face into a smile, and a WEIRD looking one at that, but it was Sportacus' response to damn near everything! Whenever Robbie saw him, he looked a twitch away from some type of smile.

                Robbie couldn't complain, though. It, like everything else about him, was VERY attractive, and made his heart do funny things. Especially...when directed at him.

                Okay, he was getting mushy, and his behind was starting to ache from sitting on the sign for so long.  It was time to get down.

                Sportacus seemed to read his mind.

                "Would you like to get down?"

                "Yeah."

-

                When they were back on the ground, Sportacus paused.

                "Robbie."

                "What."

                "Please, give yourself a break," Sportacus pleaded, eyes full of sincerity as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just for tonight. Sleep on it, and you may find answers where you least expect it."

                "Hmm," he considered. He WAS quite tired...

                "Okay, I'll...I'll do that," he admitted weakly.

                Sportacus beamed.

                Robbie scowled, but without any malice.  He didn't want to think about how this meant he was technically taking health advice from the flippity elf. He focused instead on how tired Sportacus' eyes looked.

                "Not that I care, but," Robbie dropped his eyes to the ground as he gestured vaguely at Sportacus, "Looks like I'm not the only one needing sleep around here, Sportawake. I don't know what time it is, but I'm CERTAIN that it's not 8:08 anymore, friend."

                Sportacus' entire face lit up, and while Robbie was trying to figure out why, he stepped forward and embraced Robbie.

                "Good luck with your invention," he said, releasing him. "Bye Robbie!"

                "Bye," Robbie said softly, holding his hand up in a short wave as Sportacus bounded away.

-

                Robbie's lair was less damaged than he thought it would be.  The machine hadn't actually exploded, like he was expecting!  Sure it was a little more...scorched, than it was before, but thankfully it had just gone defunct and sizzled out. When he peeked inside, though, he saw the real damage.  The feelings receptacle still looked usable, but the brainwave manipulator looked like it had caught on fire, the once-smooth top punctured with warped holes of melted plastic.

                Robbie took a deep breath, and exhaled through his nose. "You know what? It is NOT the time to think about that," he decided, turning around and walking toward his chair.

                "Well, that sure was a MIXED BAG of a night," Robbie mused as he sat down, "Crying, laughing, the whole nine yards."

                But, he could still feel the funny feeling in his chest that came from uncontrollable laughter so...it was probably worth it.  He felt a lot better. He always did, when he talked to Sportacus up on that billboard.

                It was further proof that he had to get that machine up and running, and FAST.

                He didn't want to ruin what they had with his horrible feelings.

                Wait.

                What they had?

                What DID they have? They had...they had...

                "Friendship," Robbie breathed, in awe. "Sportacus and I are...friends."

                He shook his head.

                "Or at least, I THINK we are. He seems to like talking to me?" he shrugged,  "For SOME reason."

                "Maybe...maybe without these FEELINGS in the way..." he mused, "Maybe we COULD be friends."

                What would happen to their hero/villain relationship if they became friends? He didn't know, but maybe they could try to do both? This was new, unfamiliar territory.

                Honestly, ANY friendship as an adult was new territory for Robbie.

                But maybe, just maybe, it could still work.

                Robbie sighed and settled deeper into his chair.  After spending every waking moment on his machine for the past few days, it was hard to just...switch off. He clamped his eyes shut and tried hard not to think about it. He thought instead about...

                He fell asleep seeing visions of blonde hair.

-

                Robbie jolted awake, feeling...better, but still tired, the last moment of his dream lingering in his mind. Well, it was more of a memory, because Sportacus HAD actually said it to him once.

                " _You know Robbie? Even though I have my memory back, I can still be your friend._ "

                He gasped.

                "The-THE MEMORY SUCKER 3000!!" he yelled with glee, voice cracking as he RAN over to the storage area that housed that old device. He closed his eyes and giggled, dancing around in a circle to let the happy energy out of his body.

                "I was never INVENTING brain science!!" he gasped in astonishment. "I've been...REINVENTING it. Ha! Talk about reinventing the wheel," he said, chuckling. "I could have just STOLEN the circuitry from THIS the ENTIRE TIME!!"

He shook his head at his own ridiculousness. "I should have KNOWN that the best method was the...VILLAIN'S method," he said, smiling wide, as he got to work.

                Finding the memory sucker was a GODSEND. The basic structure for absorbing...brain things, was all there! Since he had fried the brainwave manipulator that came with the kit, he was delighted to find out that the memory sucker had one too! And, it was already plugged in and functioning, which gave Robbie a better idea of how the thing actually _worked._  And once he understood the brainwave manipulator, all Robbie had to do was tweak its inner workings a little, attach the feelings receptacle, build a newer chassis for the whole operation...

                And so, a couple of days later, he actually...had it working.

                "It's READY!" he squealed in delight, clapping and turning around in a circle.

                He was so caught up in his joy that he lost himself a little, writing IT WORKED!!! on a piece of paper, and sending it up to the airship.

                He positioned the ray gun attachment, cringing at its squeaks, until it was pointing directly at his face.

                "Al-RIGHT!!" he said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, "Say goodBYE to those FEELINGS!  Mwah!"  Robbie blew a kiss at his machine. "I sure will MISS you...NOT!"

                But even so, he hesitated with his hand over the button. "You know," he pondered, "I never got the chance to test this. Am I really prepared to be...the guinea pig?"

                He thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on his chin.

                But then he shrugged. "Oh well. Gotta do it!" He said impulsively, and slammed the button down.

                A blast of green light flooded his eyes, which he screwed shut, and he felt the particularly strange sensation of being...drained.

                When it was over, the feelings receptacle spat out a glass heart--a dark purple heart, with RR engraved into it in cursive script.

                And sure enough, Robbie had no feelings for Sportacus anymore. Not a one!

                But, as he was quickly realizing, the machine hadn't JUST sucked out his affections for Sportacus. It had sucked out ALL of his emotions, leaving just one behind.

**EMPTY.**

                Robbie screamed.

                There was absolutely nothing left in him besides **EMPTY.**

                And to be clear, it was not a pleasant kind of carefree mindlessness. It was a hungry, ravenous, gaping hole that seemed to be carved out of his own heart.

                He had NEVER felt anything as awful as this.  The closest he had ever come to this emptiness was when he was very VERY depressed, but this was still a thousand times worse!

                And it was sending him into a panic.

                "Oh no," he choked, before his breaths picked up into full hyperventilation. Oh good, you could still do THAT with no emotions. Fantastic.

                But, he couldn't stop it. Nothing would solve the **EMPTY** , with no other emotions, he couldn't snap out of it--stuck in the repeating cycle of sucking air in out in out inoutinoutinoutinout-

                His brain felt pixelated, he was losing awareness of his limbs in space, leaving him tearing at his hair so he could at least feel his BODY existing.

                There was only one clear thought in his mind.

                "NOT-WORTH-IT!" he managed to gasp out through heavy, wheezing breaths.  His crush on Sportacus? He would take a MILLION of those if it would just fill up the **EMPTY** that he felt inside.

                He stumbled backwards, on the cusp of blacking out, when another thought struck him with the force of a train-- _I CAN REVERSE THIS!_

                He had added the reversal switch almost as an afterthought, but that would be his savior.

                He scooped the glass heart off the ground with shaking hands, cradling it to his chest. "YOU are coming BACK to me!" he exclaimed.

                Hands still shaking, he placed the heart in the machine, and hit the reversal switch.

                All his emotions flew back to him, flashing past him one by one. He was nearly overwhelmed with their intensity, but he relished their strength, as he recognized every single one. Happiness, sadness, anger, regret, contentment, shame, jealousy, hatred, melancholy, fear-

                Love.

                He gasped.

                "I LOVE him," he whispered in shock, and something stirred deep inside, because that was true.  It was more than just a crush, like he had been telling himself.

                It was full on LOVE.

                "I'm in love with Sportacus," he said with a dazed smile, looking left and right. "THAT'S good to know."

                With that, he passed out--right there on the floor.

-

                He woke up...he had no idea how much time later, feeling simultaneously like he had slept for a thousand years, and completely wiped.

                "Ohhhh...that's right. I made a MISTAKE," he said, putting his head back down with a groan. "If nothing else...I've definitely gained PERSPECTIVE," he said without opening his eyes.

                He stayed just like that, on the cool floor, breathing slow, even breaths, until the sharp aching in his bones overpowered his urge to stay on the ground.

                Slowly, and with MANY groans and crackles from his protesting body, he clambered to his feet.

                "Whatever happens with Sportacus," he said, cracking his back twice, "One thing is for certain.

                He pointed accusatorily at his own machine. "I am NEVER NEVER NEVER doing that EVER EVER again," he declared.

                He walked away from it, grasping his heart. "That was one of the most TERRIFYING things that has EVER happened to me," he said, walking toward the kitchen.  "I'm just going to eat some CAKE MIX with a SPOON until I feel BETTER."

                And so he did.

                "Ugh, that was the WORST!" he mumbled between spoonfuls of chocolate powder. "I think it's definitely worse to feel NOTHING than to be in love with Sportacu-" he choked, spitting a mouthful of powder and dropping his spoon into the box as he had a coughing fit.

                "Oh yeah, I almost forgot that THAT happened," he grimaced. "I'm in LOVE with that Sporty...elf."

                He stuffed another spoonful into his mouth aggressively, silently glowering into the middle distance.

                "WHY do I have to be in LOVE with him???" he lamented. "That just makes EVERYTHING harder."

                A paper airplane flitted down to his feet at that moment.

                "Huh, what's this," he grumbled, opening up the paper airplane to read what was written on it.

                "Congratulations Robbie! I knew you could do it!!! --Sportacus"

                He jumped in panic to his feet, sending both letter and cake mix flying from his lap. "HOW DID HE FIND OUT THAT I'M IN L-oh wait, no," he gave an embarrassed chuckle at himself. "I forgot! I sent him a letter when I got it working."

                He furrowed his brows and frowned. "Why did I do that. That's EMBARRASSING."          

                But even so, the fact that Sportacus had likely flip-flopped around his airship JUST to send him back a response...made him feel a little light and airy.

                He sat back heavily in his chair. "Oh boy," he said, heaving a huge, world weary sigh, "I'm in trouble NOW."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, we have The Realization. Robbie has been through a lot to get here. Thanks so much for reading!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie helps out a young friend, and himself as well.

                Robbie sat, slumped, at his lab table, forehead in hand. He was, to put it lightly, a LITTLE demoralized by the recent failure of his feelings extractor.  But, that wouldn't keep him down for long! He was CERTAIN that this invention was going to be the one that could finally solve his problem! So he picked up a pen, intending to continue on with it.

                "I am going to make it BETTER!" he swiped at the air with his pen, "I'm going to make it BIGGER!" he swiped back the other way, "I'm going to MAKE. IT. WORK!" he declared, puncturing each word with a sharp jab of his pen. "This will DEFINITELY get rid of my feelings for Sportaflop FOREVER," he mumbled, sliding a sheet of paper towards him.

                But as soon as his pen touched the paper, his hand started to shake, too  violently to even make a coherent mark.

                "Agh!" he exclaimed, throwing the pen back down and shaking out his hand.

                "Maybe," he said, eyes darting back and forth from the pen to his hand, "Maybe I should uh, take a  _break_  from drawing," he mused, rubbing his hand.  "I don't want to get a...HAND CRAMP!" he laughed nervously, and looked around his workstation for another way to continue on.

                "Ah!" he gasped, pulling out his circuits book and opening it to one of the diagram pages.

                Immediately, his eyes crossed and his vision blurred.

                "Huh? What?!" he exclaimed, looking around left and right at his blurry lair, finally just squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them until they hurt.

                He leaned back in the chair, eyes still screwed shut, and let out a growl of frustration.

                "UGH!" he said, throwing his hands in the air, "It's like my body doesn't WANT me to finish this!"

                As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes popped open, seeing in perfect clarity.

                "Aw, REALLY?" he complained, as he realized what was going on inside of him, "I was JOKING!!"

                He fell back into his chair with a sour frown, but conceded to his body's commands.  Despite all of his declarations, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

                Truth be told, he was still having...dreams, about the fiasco that was that night.  He would wake up from very realistic nightmares that his emotions had been stripped away again, gasping in a cold sweat, so desperate to feel them working that he would think of Sportacus on PURPOSE! Even during the daytime, whenever he even THOUGHT about how terrible it felt to be  **EMPTY**  like that, he felt a little...tight in the chest.  So it made sense, then, that to WORK on something that carried that risk...

                "No," he decided, getting up from his lab table to pace, "I'm not doing that. I  _can't,_ " he realized, blinking away a couple tears, "I JUST can't!"

                With that settled, he blinked a few more times, mentally reshuffling the Feelings Extractor into the Failed Invention category in his brain, and heaved a sigh of relief that he didn't even know he was holding.

                "Time...to MOVE ON," he said, moving his arm decisively.

                There was only one problem.

                Move on to WHAT?

                He was once again in Plan Purgatory with a problem that he didn't know how to solve.  No direction, no ideas, just Robbie floundering in a sea of disgusting thoughts about love and romance and-

                "Ohh!!" he wailed, putting a hand to his forehead and twirling around, as if searching his empty lair for advice. "What can I DO??" he lamented.

                With that, Robbie promptly lost the will to stand up and fell sideways across his chair, draped across both of the arms.

                "Mm, very comfortable," he said, voice strained by the unnatural curve of his spine.

                It was a valiant try, but frankly? He was actually in a lot of pain.

                However, there was a silver lining to this improper use of furniture.  The sheer discomfort he was now in prompted him to rise, not just into a better position, but also out of the swamp of misery.

                "No, no, no, no, you can't sit around MOPING," he told himself, rolling off the chair and onto the floor with a crash.

                "You are Robbie Rotten!" he said, jumping back to his feet. "You are the BEST villain in the WORLD!" he smiled wide and spun around once, "You just have to THINK of something, with that big old BRAIN of yours!"

                After his impromptu self-pep talk, he fell back into the chair, drumming his fingers over and over on his chin as the ticking of the clock echoed in the background. His lair, and even the entire TOWN, was blissfully quiet--quiet enough to THINK!

                Quiet, that is, until-

                BANG!

                Robbie jumped at the sound, flinching further when it was immediately followed up by a shrill "IT'S WORKING IT'S WORKING IT'S WORKING!!"

                "Ugh! This better be GOOD!" Robbie grumbled, stomping up the steps to his periscope, "Interrupting me when I was SO CLOSE to an IDEA!"

                Robbie pulled down his periscope viewer and surveyed the town. Who could possibly be making those AWFUL noises??

                Turns out, it was Pixel.  The boy was racing through town with his arms in the air, head whipping from side to side as he searched for somebody to tell his news to.

                He gasped in happiness when he caught sight of Stingy, leisurely strolling by and holding his piggy bank.

                "Stingy!" he exclaimed, his enthusiastic wave more an expression of happiness than truly a way to flag his friend down.

                "What is it, Pixel?" Stingy asked curiously, approaching the overexcited boy with caution.

                Not ENOUGH caution, apparently, as Pixel grabbed onto Stingy's shoulders the moment he was in range.

                "My brain-er-print is working!" Pixel babbled, shaking Stingy back and forth to the rhythm of his speech. "I finally got the right  _capacitors_  and the right  _configurations_ and I can  _talk_  to it and it will give me  _answers_  as if it's  _me_  and-" he froze, stock still, as if he had just been handed the key to the universe. "Can-can I scan YOUR brain TOO?"

                Stingy blinked, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights of Pixel's enthusiasm. "I-erg-bluh-um-I-I don't know, Pixel, I-"

                "Please!" Pixel interrupted, starting to shake Stingy again. "It would be SO COOL and I'll even rig you up your own breadboard series and I can cross-reference stuff to see how we process everything different and please please please??"

                Stingy pushed Pixel's hands off of his shoulders, leaving him to flap them at the same tempo instead while he waited for Stingy's response.

                "I-sure, I guess?" Stingy sputtered, looking a little...well...shaken.

                "Oh, thank you thank you THANK YOU!!" Pixel downright SCREECHED, bouncing up and down.  "I'm going to go start preparations right now! See you later Stingy!"

                "Brain-er-print," Robbie muttered slowly, finally processing the extremely fast paced encounter. "Oh! That's the machine that I helped him with!" he realized, a sense of pride pervading him despite himself.

                And then it hit him.  

                "Oh, my goodness. He got it WORKING," Robbie said, awestruck. "That means he understands all of those DIAGRAMS and EXPLANATIONS that gave me HELL!"

                Robbie leaned heavily against the railing. "Oh, boy.  That...that TECHNO CHILD is WAY too smart!"

-

                Robbie was scribbling ideas on his drawing board when there came a hesitant knock on the hatch.

                He dropped his chalk in surprise and made an extremely attractive sort of "HLGHK!" noise, looking up accusatorily at the sound.

                "No one EVER visits me!" he argued, waving a hand upward.

                However, upon looking back at the drawing board, filled with nothing but hearts and question marks, he let out a defeated sigh.

                "But, it's not like I have anything BETTER to do," he grumbled, scaling the ladder to see who his visitor was.

                It was Stingy.

                "I need...I need a favor," Stingy said, wringing his hands.

                Robbie narrowed his eyes, quite suspicious of the greedy little gremlin. "What makes you think I'd do YOU a favor??"

                "I can-I can make a trade? Or something?" Stingy suggested, holding his hands out helplessly before dropping them to his sides. "I don't  _know_ , I just need...I need to do something kind of VILLANOUS, for the greater good, and I can't exactly get ADVICE from a goody two-shoes like Sportacus. So, will you help me or not?"

                "You had me at 'villainous'," Robbie grinned, clapping his hands together. "Meet me at the tree house in TEN minutes."

                With that, Robbie shut the latch door on him and slid back down into his lair.

                "Villainous, he said!" Robbie cackled, clapping his hands together. "Ha-ha! Maybe those kids are listening to me after ALL!"

-

                Robbie hoisted himself up into the tree house, where Stingy was already pacing back and forth.

                "So!" Robbie announced, heaving a sigh as he sat down onto the floor, cross-legged. "What is this favor that is so secret and DASTARDLY that not even  _Sportapure_  can know about it? I'm...INTRIGUED," he said, resting his chin in his hands.

                Stingy stopped pacing, and clasped his hands together behind his back, taking a deep breath as if to give Robbie a prepared speech.

                Robbie wouldn't put it past him to have done that.

                "Due to... _undisclosed reasons_ ," Stingy said stiffly, "I need help backing out of Pixel's pet project."

                "The...brain thingy?"

                "Yes," he said, in the same stuffy tone. "He wants to scan my brain, and upload a copy of it to his...brain database, I suppose. But, he said that the copy would react exactly how I would react to questions..." he took a deep breath, "And I realized that I do not want to do that anymore."

                "Why not?" ask Robbie.

                "I have my REASONS," Stingy said, indignantly stomping a foot on the floor, "SECRETS, that no living mortal can EVER know!"

                "Woah, woah, cool it with the DRAMATICS, kid!" Robbie said, holding his hands out.

                Stingy crossed his arms and fixed Robbie with an exasperated stare. "Those who live in glass houses should not throw STONES, Robbie Rotten."

                "I-" Robbie opened his mouth, but closed it when he realized that there was nothing he could say to that. "Fair enough."

                He shook his head. "Aw, why do you need MY help though? You promised something VILLANOUS! So far this is just some sort of dumb...friendship issue."

                Stingy's face colored, and he looked down, fidgeting with his hands.

                Robbie made a "go on" motion with his hands. "Out with it, Sting-boy.  What do you want me to do?"

                "Can-can you break into Pixel's house and...destroy his machine?" Stingy blurted out.

                Robbie's eyes widened in shock. "DESTROY?" he repeated incredulously. "Why would I agree to do THAT!"

                "Because! You are a  _villain_ , if you remember,” Stingy said, his voice both nasally and condescending, “Ruining our stuff and our fun is kind of your... _forté_.”

                "Well-uh-SOMETIMES, yes," Robbie admitted, "But not this time, Stimpy. That machine...it only works because of ME.  _I'm_  taking partial credit for it, and I'm not going to rip it apart! Why don't you just TELL him that you don't want to do it anymore?"

                "Because then, he will ask WHY! And I don't want to..." he fumbled over his words, "A-accidentally tell him my secret while trying to prevent him from knowing my secret!"

                This kid was confusing Robbie more and more by the minute. "How, pray  _tell,_  would you ACCIDENTALLY tell him a secret?"

                "I don't  _know_ , it might just...slip out! While I am not paying attention! And I also do not want to...hurt his feelings," Stingy mumbled.

                "How would you-?" Robbie started to ask, but ended that sentence with a narrow-eyed stare at Stingy. Robbie might not be the best people-person on the planet, but even he knew when somebody was dancing around a subject.  

                And, he was far too curious to let it go.

                "Okay, kid. Tell me this _oh-so-horrid_  secret, and we have a DEAL," Robbie said, sticking out his hand.

                "Um, absolutely not. OUT of the question," Stingy said.

                Robbie took back his hand, and crossed his arms in a huff. "Come ON, Stimby! If I know the reason WHY, I can come up with more VILLANOUS ideas!"

                "It matters not WHY," Stingy said, regaining his composure and regal posture. "All you NEED to know is that I don't want anyone TO know! And I especially do not want PIXEL HYPERBYTE to know. That would CERTAINLY be the end of my entire existence!" Stingy was on a roll, anxiously pacing, gesturing everywhere.  "If he found out, I would have to...go into the Witness Protection Program!  Get a new name! Leave LazyTown! AND all my STUFF!" he gasped, clutching his heart. "Oh, that would be awful!"

                Robbie rolled his eyes. "Boy. And you call ME dramatic!"

                "Robbie, this is no SILLY GAME, this is serious!" Stingy said, continuing to pace. "My life as I KNOW it is at stake here!"

                "OGH! What kind of secret IS this!" Robbie growled frustratedly, looking up as if the heavens would open up and give him the answer. "Do you have a CRUSH on him or something?!"

                All of the color drained out of Stingy's face.

                Oh god.

                Was he RIGHT?

                He wasn't expecting to be RIGHT!

                "For-forget I said that, I just-"

                " _Who told you_ ," Stingy half-whispered, glaring daggers at Robbie.

                "No one! It-it was just a-"

                "You could TELL?" Stingy gasped, terror replacing anger as he started to hyperventilate a little. "If YOU could tell, that probably means SPORTACUS could tell, that means that PIXEL could probably tell, that is- oh  _no_ -"

                He was hyperventilating a LOT.

                Robbie looked around helplessly. This was his least favorite thing to deal with, EMOTIONAL PEOPLE. In any other situation, he would just slink away and let Sportacus deal with it. But, he realized, Sportacus barging in with his bleeping crystal would probably just make everything WORSE, and run the risk somebody else finding out.

                And damn it all, he was EXTREMELY empathetic to Stingy's current plight.

_I gotta calm this kid down before Sportacus gets here!_

                "Stingy, it's-it's okay!" Robbie tried, but it had absolutely no effect.

                "No!" Stingy said, stumbling backward, eyes wide like a cornered animal. "Y-you're going to tell, and then I'll-I'll-"

                "Stingy, I would  _never-"_

                "I'm not DUMB, Robbie Rotten, you're the VILLAIN! You'd use ANYTHING against us to cause trouble!"

                "I-I wouldn't about THIS!" Robbie squeaked, waving his arms around for emphasis.

                "I don't KNOW that!" Stingy screeched, a tear bouncing off his reddened cheek and falling to the floor. Oh god, this kid was seconds from LOSING IT. What could he do??

                "I-" Robbie floundered, feeling one very stupid and impulsive solution push its way to the surface, fueled by the panicked pressure building up inside of him.

                He squeezed his eyes shut.

                " _IhaveacrushonSportacus!_ " he said in a single breath.

                Stingy abruptly stopped.

                He stopped crying, he stopped hyperventilating, Robbie was a little worried that he had stopped BREATHING. He was just staring, in wide-eyed wonderment, up at Robbie.

                "Did I  _hear_  that right?" he asked, in awe, "YOU have a crush on-"

                "Yes, yes, you heard right, don't say it AGAIN!" pleaded Robbie, leaning forward and slapping his hand over Stingy's mouth. "Someone could OVERHEAR!"

                "Since...since  _when?"_  came the child's muffled voice from behind Robbie's hand.

                "Since a...a long time," Robbie said lamely, removing his hand and sitting back on the floor. "Don't INTERROGATE me about it, Stinky Boy, I only TOLD you so you would have...collateral on me," he explained.

                "Ohh," Stingy nodded, playing with the bottom of his vest. "And um, remind me please, what is...co-llateral?"

                "Oh, it's like...something I give you, so you know that I'll do what I said I'll do."

                Stingy tilted his head.

                "You see, now  _I_  can't tell  _your_  secret," Robbie said, gesturing back and forth between them, "or else that means  _you_  would be free to tell everyone  _mine._  So...collateral given. Now stop the screaming agony, please. It hurts my ears."

                "Oh," Stingy said, contemplatively. "Well, your secret is now MINE. And I, Stingy Spoilero, will not let ANYONE else have it!"

                "Uh. Thanks, kid," Robbie forced a smile at the probably-positive sentiment.

                They sat across from each other, cross-legged, both awkwardly twisting their hands in their laps.  What do you even SAY after this kind of...double revelation?

                "So," Stingy said, breaking the silence, "Do you think you'll ever tell him? How you, ahem,  _feel_ , I mean?"

                "Ugh, not a chance," Robbie said in disgust. "It would be SO EMBARRASSING!" he said, gasping through his teeth. "Sometimes, I fear he already KNOWS, and is just being...nice to me, by ignoring it."

                Stingy nodded. "I understand. I...have thought that as well. But, if YOU did not notice my...feelings," Stingy looked out the window of the tree house, "Maybe, I have not been quite as obvious as I thought."

                Robbie held up his hands.  "No way, Strudel, I can't even remember your NAME half the time. I am NOT a good metric for what people notice."

                "Oh," Stingy said, looking disappointed.

                "Why, has it...been a long time, or something?" Robbie asked.

                "Since...February."

                Robbie let out a low whistle. "Boy. That's a while."

                "What about you?"

                "Huh? Oh, a couple years.  But it wasn't really a PROBLEM til-" Robbie clapped his hand over his own mouth, face reddening. "I mean, never mind, little brats don't need to know that information-"

                "YEARS?" Stingy gasped.

                Robbie shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

                "You have  _liked_  him for YEARS??"

                Robbie massaged his temples. "Yes,  _years_ ," he said with a sigh.

                Stingy let out one of his weird snickers. "Heh heh. Robbie Rotten, you have got it BAD."

                Robbie huffed. "Don't tell me what I already know, Sting-o."

                "Me too, though," he sighed, looking out the window again. "Oh, ROBBIE, I just...I just can't help it! He's just so NICE, and SMART, a-and WONDERFUL! How could I NOT??"

                Robbie let out a barking laugh at the familiar sentiment. "Believe it or not, I  _get_  that."

                Stingy chuckled. "I bet you do."

                They sat in silence for a moment longer, when Robbie clapped his hands together, making a decision.

                "So, Yellow Child," Robbie said, "You have upheld your end of the bargain."

                "Huh?"

                Robbie cleared his throat. "I said, that if you told me your earth-shattering secret, we had a deal. You did. Now, let's think about this brain scanner business," he got up to pace around the tree house as best he could, head ducked to avoid the ceiling.

                They talked ideas for a while. Stingy had been dead-set on sneaking into Pixel's house and destroying the machine, but Robbie felt too attached to it to bring himself to do that. Plus, Stingy reluctantly agreed that he didn't want to be responsible for devastating Pixel in that way, either. Robbie suggested a few different disguise-related schemes, to get Pixel to sell his device, but Stingy was (rightfully) worried that it wouldn't be convincing enough to make him give it up.

                "Well, you could always run him out of town FOREVER," Robbie suggested finally, "That's how  _I_  usually deal with...crush-related things."

                Stingy snorted with laughter. "Yeah, and look at how well THAT worked out for you."

                Robbie stuck his tongue out at Stingy, and sat down with a thump. "Well! I'm out of ideas.  _Can't_  you just TELL him that you don't want to do it!"

                "I  _told_  you already, if I do that, I might accidentally tell him how I feel!"

                "Oh, I thought you didn't want him to KNOW!" Robbie griped.

                "Robbie, even though I don't want him to  _know_...I really, REALLY want to tell him," Stingy said, miserably.

                Robbie clutched at his chest and made an involuntary "HEUGH" noise.  That was exactly IT. THAT was the worst dilemma about having a crush, and he had never heard it voiced before until this moment.

                "Um. Ahem. I'm fine," Robbie assured unprompted, knocking his brain back to the problem at hand with a swift slap to his forehead. "Ow."

                He thought for a moment, and sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would like to preface this with: I HATE that I'm about to say this," he said, "But what do you think SPORTACUS would tell you to do?"

                “Don’t tell him!” Stingy said, suddenly fearful again.

                “When do I  _ever_ -I’m not GOING to!” Robbie said defensively, “Just...what do you think he’d say?”

                “Well,” Stingy considered, “Sportacus would probably tell me to...be honest, with Pixel, about what I feel. But I do NOT want to tell him! I know I said I DID before, but I c-can’t  _stand_  the thought of-of seeing him look at me like-like-” Stingy looked to be on the verge of tears again.

                “Whoa there, whoa there, slow down.” Robbie held up his hands against Stingy’s anxious thoughts.  “You have to tell exactly NOBODY ANYTHING. So Sportaflop would probably tell you to be honest."

                "Yeah," Stingy said, sighing.  

                An idea formed in Robbie's mind.

                "Well," Robbie said, managing to inject a bit more confidence into his voice, "It's a good thing that you've got ME instead!"

                Stingy looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

                "Listen, Stinge, I am not a HERO. I am the VILLAIN of LAZYTOWN!" Robbie announced, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice as his face lit up with a smile. "We all know that Sportaflop is always intent on doing the right thing all the time, being a perfect model of society or whatever, but that is NOT ME!  I'm not above dastardly deeds, lying or laziness! I don't CARE if it's technically the WRONG thing to do, if it's also the BEST thing to do."

                He scrambled to his feet, blood pumping with the new idea.

                "And the BEST thing to do is...DON'T be honest!" he concluded, spreading his arms out as he delivered his genius insights to the yellow-clad boy.

                “But it’s HARD to lie to PIXEL!” Stingy whined.

                Robbie flopped his hands down. “Alright, alright, then just don’t be...THAT honest,” Robbie conceded. “What I’m saying here is, Pixel doesn’t HAVE to know why you don’t want to give him your brain! It’s YOUR BRAIN! Honestly, you don’t even NEED a reason besides good old-fashioned privacy.  Somebody ELSE having a copy of your brain to browse whenever they want?”Robbie shuddered. “That’s just... _creepy_. Crush or no crush."

                “Oh yeah…” Stingy said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “Oh yeah! That IS creepy!”

                “Not that Pixel has even THOUGHT of it like that,” Robbie added. “He NEVER thinks through his inventions.”

                “Sounds like someone ELSE that I know,” Stingy quipped, giving a smug smile.

                "Hey!" Robbie said, holding a finger up, "Not while I'm giving you LIFE-SAVING advice, LEMON BOY!"

                Stingy giggled. "Sorry."

                "Anyway. Think of it like you're being...LAZY, my young friend," Robbie said, throwing an arm around his shoulders and gesturing out the window. "You're just gonna...tell the circuit-boy what you must, but? Be too LAZY to bring the feelings into it! It's not technically a LIE so much as a half-truth."

                Robbie was breathing hard. His entire speech had run on a single mote of inspiration and a healthy portion of adrenaline and improvisation. As such, he had no idea if he was even speaking in coherent words anymore. He chanced a glance at Stingy, to see if he had understood any part of it.

                Stingy...actually looked visibly relieved, and he was nodding along!

                Success!

                “I will do that.  Thank you, Mr. Rotten,” he said, just as stiffly as he had when they began, “It is a  _pleasure_  doing business with you.”

                “Likewise,” Robbie said, taking his hand and shaking it.

                He had just lifted the trapdoor and was about to make his way down the ladder when-

                “Robbie?”

                 “What?”

                “I-I hope things work out between you and Sportacus,” Stingy blurted out.

                Robbie snorted a laugh, but the hopeful look in the boy’s eyes...

                He cleared his throat, and reframed what he was going to say.

                “If I were to think...POSITIVE, about this whole mess,” he said, wiggling his vest, “I would say that...at least...he doesn't seem to HATE me?"

                And with a shrug, he closed the trapdoor and made his way home.

-

                Robbie slid down into his lair, exhausted.

                That was NOT how he was expecting the afternoon to go.

                "Nothing EVER happens how I expect up there," he grumbled, kicking an errant piece of metal out of his way before he slumped down into his chair.

                "I can't believe I TOLD someone about it," Robbie said, "And the STINGY CHILD of all people!"

                Although he had to admit, having someone else know and KEEP the secret was...nice. Even if it was one of the snot-nosed brats, it was a snot-nosed brat who...really reminded him of himself, at that age.  Young, terrified, overdramatic, and crushing HARD on the boy next door.  It was a time of his life that he didn't really like to think about very often, but this situation was dredging up feelings and memories that he had completely forgotten about.

                Mostly the fact that his entire first crush was an embarrassing disaster.

                He didn't get much of a chance to ruminate on it, however, as his sensitive periscope microphone picked up on a timid-sounding voice.

                "Pixel?"

                Robbie LEAPED up to the periscope in a flash, looking around frantically for the source of the voice.

                His periscope eyes finally found Pixel sitting on a bench, absorbed in some sort of handheld device. Stingy was standing in front of him, trying to catch his attention.

                He looked scared out of his wits.

                "P-Pixel?" he said again--or rather, squeaked.

                That one caught the other boy's attention. "Oh hey, Stingy, what's up!" he replied, flashing a toothy grin. "Ready to do the scan?"

                "Come on, Stingy," Robbie mumbled, staring intensely at the two of them as if he could telepathically donate his courage to the anxious yellow boy.

                "That's-that's the thing," Stingy drew himself up, "I don't...I don't want you to scan my brain."

                "Aw, why not?" Pixel asked.

                "Pixel we are f-friends, but it's just-just-" Stingy fumbled a little, looking at the ground.

                "Come  _on_ , kid," Robbie said, downright pressing his eyeballs to the periscope viewer, "Stick to your GUNS!"

                "Your machine, reads thoughts," Stingy said finally, shaking like a leaf. "I do n-not...LIKE the idea of you reading my thoughts. You are my friend, but my thoughts...are MINE," he finished, with a haughty sniff, but softened. "Do you understand?"

                "Oh..." Pixel said, looking down. "I never thought about it that way, that is..." he shuddered. "Aw, man, I feel like a  _jerk!_  I wouldn't want anybody else reading MY thoughts either!" He looked back up. "I'm sorry, Stingy. I'll just examine my OWN brain. I already know every file and folder in THERE!"

                Stingy sighed in relief. "Thank you, Pixel."

                "No problem! I actually just thought of a new experiment, but we should play some video games later! See ya!" Pixel said, rushing off.

                Right as Pixel ran out of sight, Stingy sagged onto the bench.

                And Sportacus popped seemingly out of nowhere, making Robbie flinch from behind his periscope.

                "That was a  _very_  good thing you did there, Stingy," said the hero, smiling gently.

                Stingy sighed. "Then why do I still feel  _bad_ , Sportacus?"

                "Setting boundaries for yourself is never easy," Sportacus counseled, laying a hand on Stingy's shoulder. "Because it is more fun to make your friends happy by going along with what they want, rather than make them sad by disagreeing. But if your friends are  _really_  your friends? They will respect when you do not want to do something.  Like Pixel just did!"

                "Thanks, Sportacus," Stingy smiled gratefully.

                Sportacus patted him on the shoulder. "You're welcome!"

                "You know," Stingy said carefully, "I would not have done it if I had not gotten some  _very_  good advice from Robbie Rotten earlier."

                Robbie's heart clenched in fear. Was Stingy about to divulge their conversation?

                "You went to Robbie for advice?" Sportacus asked in surprise, and Stingy simply nodded, saying nothing more.

                "Is he...STILL taking my advice?" Robbie asked incredulously. "Honest, but not too honest?? I can't believe it, it WORKED!"

                He was so busy celebrating his little victory by turning a little circle, high knees on each step, that he almost missed what Sportacus said next.

                "That was probably a good idea."

                Robbie froze.

                "What?!" he exclaimed, pressing his eyes back into the periscope.

                Sportacus looked around, and back at Stingy conspiratorially.  "If I can tell you a secret...he has even given ME some good advice before."

                "Really?" Stingy and Robbie said simultaneously.

                "Yup! He is a  _good_  friend!" Sportacus said, patting Stingy on the shoulder and immediately backflipping away.

                Stingy gasped, and sprinted away.

                Robbie pushed his periscope up. "That's enough spying for the day," he said, heaving a heavy sigh. "I don't want to get embroiled in ANY MORE ADVICE-GIVING."

                No sooner had he said that than there was another knock on the hatch.

                "Robbie!" Came Stingy's urgent voice from above, along with more knocking. " _Robbie_!"

                "What NOW," Robbie growled, climbing up and flinging open the latch.

                Stingy stood there, panting hard, but eyes shining with determination.

                "Sportacus...just told me...that he thinks you give good advice!" he panted, delivering the message with the urgency of battle plans. "And, that you are a good  _friend_!"

                "I KNOW that, little boy, I was watching the whole thing through my periscope!" Robbie said.

                "Oh," Stingy said, still catching his breath. "So you saw-"

                "Yes," Robbie nodded proudly. " _Excellent_  work in selective honesty, Stinge my boy."

                Stingy flashed a smile at him as his breathing regulated.

                "Did you...run all the way over here JUST to tell me what Sportaflip said?" Robbie asked curiously.

                "I thought...if MY crush was saying nice things about me when I wasn't around, I would want to know."

                "Well, THANKS, but I got it covered," Robbie said, patting Stingy on the head. "Now,  _please_  go back to town, and leave me be."

                "Okay. I will. Bye and thank you Robbie!" Stingy said, sprinting off.

                Robbie's heart felt like it was being compressed in a vice.

                "Sportacus thinks I'm a good  _friend_? And that I give good  _advice_?" Robbie asked himself when he was safely back down in his nice, soft chair. "Hah!"

                "If I give  _such good advice,"_  he drawled, "Then why can't I give MYSELF advice?!"

                It was really starting to frustrate him, honestly.  Sitting around, thinking about Sportacus all day, and coming up with NOTHING!  It was certainly a pretty pathetic picture for a genius villain.

                "' _Good advice'_  my HAT!" Robbie grumbled. "All I did was tell the kid to be LAZY!!"

                Robbie gasped, as the weight of what he just said hit him with the force of a bus.

                "Wait. Could I do that too?" he wondered, jumping up from his chair. " _I_  could do that TOO!" he clapped, excitement spreading through his body.

                "Okay, Okay. TELLING somebody something like this," he reasoned while pacing around, "It takes work, and courage, and...and talking, and EFFORT, right? ALL those disgusting things that I can't STAND!" he growled.

                "So...could I just be too...LAZY to tell him?" Robbie looked left, right, and left again, finding no objection. "I don't see why not! I'm  _good_ at laziness! And, we can still be FRIENDS that way!"

                He rubbed his hands together, steeling himself. "Okay, Robbie, get it together. This is going to be the most IMPORTANT act of laziness that you have ever DONE!"

                He inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. "Well. I'm sure I can do it.  After all, I  _am_  a citizen of... _LazyTown_ ," he said, his euphoria at finally having a new plan coming out as a loud, long, EVIL cackle that reverberated through his entire lair.

                Yes. This was going to be a piece of CAKE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ almighty, it has been a while. If you are reading this, thank you so much for reading! I had to split what was going to be chapter 7 into two parts, this is the first part of the 10 thousand word Hell I've been editing for the past several months. Hoping to update again sooner than four more months!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sportacus learns something about Robbie, and Robbie learns something about himself.

                It was not a piece of cake.

                Ever since he realized he was in love, he couldn't exactly make himself...UNrealize that fact.  Especially when he was being confronted with Sportacus' stupid... _beautiful_ face all the time!

                Also, the plan to be lazy about it was backfiring pretty badly on him. Robbie was a natural at laziness, of course, but _forcing_ it? That turned out to be really hard, and so that meant he had to THINK a lot, spending most of his mental energy chanting _belazybelazybelazybelazy_ in his head whenever Sportacus was around.

                And then, the icing on his stressed out brain's cake, there were the...OTHER thoughts.

                After a scheme, the two of them were standing side by side as the kids dislodged his disguse and collectively announced his true identity.  Business as usual, when-

_Grab his hand._

                It wasn't just a thought, it was a full body IMPULSE.

                In response, he flinched and wrapped his arms tight around his torso, just in case they had a mind of their own and betrayed him.  Sportacus raised a concerned eyebrow at him, but let it slide in favor of telling the kids the lesson of the day.

                During the next scheme, when he dressed up as a yoga instructor, leading Sportacus to his CERTAIN DOOM with a hand on his upper back-

_Wrap your arm around his waist._

                His arm was halfway THERE when he caught himself, shivering so violently that he almost broke character trying to force that thought out of his mind.

                Again, Sportacus spared him a glance, but Robbie distracted him by improvising a story about his fake and EXTREMELY comprehensive yoga credentials.

                He was falling, off of his own crumbling invention, and WHERE did he land but directly into Sportacus' arms, his own arm slipping around his neck.  Looking UP at the elf was a rarer occurence that always set his heart fluttering, and in that moment Sportacus looked so-

_KISS HIM. RIGHT NOW._

                "SHUT!" he yelped, twisting out of his arms in a fit of adrenaline and landing hard on the floor.

                Sportacus peered down at him. "I didn't _say_ anything," he said, unable to stifle the giggle in his voice as he held out a hand.

                "Yes, well," Robbie grumbled, accepting the hand and getting to his feet, "I wasn't talking to YOU," he said, pointing at Sportacus' stupid mustache with the other hand.

                Wait. Other hand?

                He peered between them, where their hands were still clasped.

                That wasn't fair! He didn't even do that on PURPOSE!

                Robbie dropped the hand as fast as he could with a frustrated huff, letting his arms swing high as he stalked away.

                No. This was definitely not a piece of cake.

                In fact, it had been just a few days, and this new method was running Robbie RAGGED.

                He tumbled down into his lair, not even bothering to close the latch behind him, and landed in a heap on the ground.

                After a few moments of just...staying exactly where he was, he found the strength to stretch himself out.

                "OGH!" he exclaimed finally, throwing his arms in the air and then flopping them back down onto the ground. "WHY is being LAZY so much WORK?!"

                But the more he laid there and thought, the more he was overcome with nervous energy, eventually getting so overwhelmed that he had to get up and pace.

                He paced and paced, panic building up in his stomach as a realization dawned on him--this plan was unsustainable.   He couldn't keep his feelings in for much longer, and he knew it.

                "How did I DO it before??" Robbie asked himself, while he quite literally paced a hole in the floor of his lair.  "I'd do _anything_ to be distracted from it like I used to be!" Robbie stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes up, trying his best to see into his brain. "Why must you BETRAY me in this way??"

                Robbie screwed up his face in disgust. "Ugh, who am I kidding? I know WHY," he spat, "It's because I KNOW him now.  And, the more I get to KNOW that acrobatic SportaLOON, the more there is to-ghk-LOVE."

                And if he followed that train of thought to its logical conclusion, he felt even MORE like throwing up.  So he pointedly avoided that thought.

                "What do I do??" he asked his empty lair, his question echoing back to him off the walls. "Should I erase my OWN memory?" he suggested, desperately looking around for the memory sucker.

                Which he found to be in several pieces.

                "Oh, no, I destroyed it to use in my OTHER failed invention, STUPID me!" he said, slapping his own forehead. "Plus, what if I did all that just to fall in love again?? BAD idea, Robbie, bad idea all around."

                Pacing faster and faster, he felt like a tightly wound piece of string.  He took a deep breath in, and out.

                "Ugh! I need to get out of this RUT!" he exclaimed, voice bouncing off the wall of his lair.

                Coming back to himself, he realized that he was also in a quite literal physical rut, as well.  His anxious pacing had worn a deep trench into the floor of his lair, and he was now standing waist-high in it.  He climbed up out of it and surveyed the new addition to his home.

                "All this Sportaflop business is getting me... _too_ stressed out," Robbie realized, staring at the hole. He snapped his head up. "I need a break.  No, I DESERVE a break!"

                And so he sat himself down in his chair, and set himself to the task of touching the soft fabric of its arms, allowing all else to filter out of his brain besides the softness of the chair and the creaking of its mechanisms as it rocked back and forth.

                As Pixel would say...it was a reboot.

                And as he sunk deeper into both the chair and a pervasive sense of calm, he allowed himself to...NOT fixate on the whole Sportacus business.

                And it let him realize what he was craving above all else.

                Fun.

                He really, really liked the sound of inventing something for no other reason than for fun.

                Something that had nothing to do with any feelings, or running anyone out of town.

                It was high time he did that again.

                But he was just so _comfortable,_ in his chair! He had JUST sat down, and getting up again would require ENERGY, and why couldn't the CHAIR just move around where he wanted to-

                Something snapped into place, and he bounded to his feet without thinking.

                "A HOVERCHAIR!" he announced, smiling wide.

                Robbie immediately set to work, gathering materials like a bird making a nest, and dumping them unceremoniously on the floor to start the process.

                The rhythm of invention was always so...quieting, and calming.  Robbie had forgotten just how nice it could be, to move through the lair in such a dreamlike state, to have all his thoughts and plans flow through his brain in such a deliciously satisfying way.  All of his inventions for the past, well, LONG time had had an undercurrent of panic and urgency running through their creation, that this one simply didn't have. 

                The only thing he was thinking of this time, was...why had he never made a hovercraft before? Even kids made them, in their baby science classes, so why shouldn't a genius be able to move around in his own abode without having to stand up?

                And, it was working like a dream.  The chair was already taking shape, and with some well-placed hits with Robbie's favorite hammer...there! The upholstery was finished! Now where should he put the rocket boosters, was the next question...

                "La la LAAAAAAAA!!!!" Robbie belted over the grinding noise of his (reserved for Not Food) blender, turning some of his spare chemicals into a concoction that he now dubbed Rottenfuel.

                He tipped the sludge into the fuel tanks, and skipped off to find more sheet metal.

-             

                Robbie finally spoke aloud when he was settling into his mostly-finished prototype chair.

                "That was...nice," he said slowly, dredging his voice up from the depths.  He sighed, relaxing into the chair a little. It wasn't quite as comfortable as his orange chair, due to not wanting to waste his GOOD fabrics on a prototype, but it was purple, and pretty soft, and would do for the moment.  He gave a satisfied sigh.

                "Just _look_ at what happens when I DON'T worry about that elf!" Robbie said, gesturing to the creation under him with a proud smile.

                "Now, to TEST this baby..." he murmured, wiggling his fingers over the control panels on each arm of the chair.  On the left arm, height controls, on the right arm, direction controls.

                Best to start by turning the thing ON.

                "Aaaaand...HOVER!" he exclaimed, pressing the button with unnecessary (yet satisfying) force.

                BOOM!

                The chair ROCKETED upward, carrying a screaming Robbie hanging on for dear life, through the (mercifully open) hatch and into the evening sky.

                Airborne.

                Robbie Rotten's LEAST favorite sensation.

                "STOP THE RIDE, I WANT TO GET OFF!!" he screeched, as he soared up above the billboard, fingers finally obeying his command to press down into the power button again.

                The rockets underneath him abruptly sputtered out.

                Thirty feet up.

                Sometimes, Robbie wondered how he was even still ALIVE, with all the decisions that he made on a regular basis.

                "NononononoNONONO!!!" he screamed, reaching for the power button again, but it was too late.  The heavy chair was already falling down and away from his behind, leaving Robbie to plummet to his death--all alone.

                But at the exact moment that Robbie felt that cold stab of fear, down tumbled Sportacus' ladder right next to him! Robbie reached out and snatched two of the bright white rungs before he could get too much downward momentum, feet swooping down and barely brushing the top of the billboard.

                Saved again!

                Well, sort of.

                Robbie's heart beat like a drum, as the post-near death experience adrenaline spike faded away.  He could finally think past the blind panic, and take stock of the situation at hand.

                Realizing exactly where he was, however, nearly made him panic all over again.

                "Not dead," he gasped, "But VERY. VERY HIGH."

                One would think, and quite reasonably, too, that Robbie would be more okay with the ladder than the billboard, since he had technically used it many times in the past as a way to get down.

                No, no, no.

                Absolutely not.

                As he was quickly finding out, that swinging beanstalk of death was WAY worse than the billboard! At least the BILLBOARD didn't MOVE!

                "Robbie! Are you okay?" said Sportacus from above him, his accented voice colored with concern.

                "PERFECTLY FINE," Robbie wheezed, arm trembling violently as he reached out for his old familiar light fixture.  It took him a couple unsteady snatches, but by balancing his tippy-toes on the billboard, he could JUST grasp enough of the metal cone to yank himself down into a sitting position.

                Was it perfect? No. But at least it was FAMILIAR.

                What was also familiar was the sound of Sportacus' boots solidly making contact with the space right next to him.

                "Wow, THAT was a close one!" he said, a smile evident in his voice. "Phew! I'm so _glad_ that you're okay!"

                Robbie didn't respond but to squeeze his eyes shut further.

                " _Are_ you doing okay?" Sportacus asked, softer this time.

                "I'M DOING JUST FINE," Robbie wheezed, rather unconvincingly.

                "A-are you sure?"

                "Just..." Robbie tightened his grip on the light fixture, "Just...give me a minute, here."

                So Sportacus stayed quiet as Robbie sat, hunched over, cheek pressed against the cold metal casing.  It was unpleasantly chalky, but the sensation was rather grounding.

                "Would you...would you like to get down?" Sportacus asked tentatively.

                There was not a force on earth that could put Robbie back on that ladder now that he had escaped it.  He ignored Sportacus' question.

                "Kind of you to come up here at 7:30 this time," Sportacus joked, lightly punching Robbie in the arm.

                Robbie just seized up further.

                Sportacus fell silent again.

                Well, mostly silent.  Robbie was almost certain that he could hear him doing pull-ups, or handstand pushups, or some other sort of stupid activity.

 _Heh. He just CAN'T stop himself,_ he thought, a smirk involuntarily crossing his face right when Sportacus spoke again.

                "I don't want to rush you, but...you should really see this _sunset_ ," Sportacus sighed.

                Robbie peeked one eye at Sportacus, who waved and gestured to the dying light of the sun.

                It really was beautiful.  The sun itself had sunk below the horizon, which was Robbie's favorite part of any sunset, and it had left the sky a gorgeous light pink that tinted the white sidewalks of the town.  Combined with the dark blue of the few clouds that hung near the horizon, it created such a beautiful color palette that Robbie immediately committed it to memory.  He could USE that in his next costume, maybe a flowing skirt, or an evening gown, or a three-piece suit-

                He was derailed from that particular train of thought by the sound of Sportacus giggling.

                Robbie glanced at him.

                "Sorry," Sportacus said, biting back a smile, "It's not-it's not really that funny."

                Robbie raised one eyebrow as high as it could go, which was pretty darn high if he said so himself.

                So Sportacus relented.

                "That color," he gestured out at the pink sky, "It just makes me laugh."

                That was not what Robbie had expected.

                "Do you-" Robbie paused to cough the waver out of his voice, "Do you think it's ugly?"

                "No, no," Sportacus replied, "it just reminds me of something...weird, that my brother did, when we were kids."

                Robbie shot another questioning glance at him.

                "He snuck around the village," Sportacus explained, "And changed everyone's underwear to that exact pink color. JUST their underwear.  And, nobody even noticed until he was already done and gone!"

                Sportacu chuckled fondly, while Robbie tried his hardest to visualize how such an odd task could be accomplished.

                " _How_ did he-" Robbie started to ask, but cut himself off and held a hand up. "Actually, no.  I don't really WANT to know."

                "Well, it was-"

                "Shh!" Robbie shushed, waving his hand in front of Sportacus' face to accentuate every word he spoke. "Don't! Want! To know!"

                "He used a _spell_ , Robbie," Sportacus chuckled, eyes crinkling as he sent a fond smile Robbie's way.  "If that makes any more sense."

                "Ohhhhh," Robbie deflated, "Right. Elves."

                "Yep!" Sportacus confirmed cheerily, "Elves."

                Robbie narrowed his eyes at the still-smiling elf. "Don't make FUN of me, Sportaflop," he warned, jabbing his finger at him.  "I Just...FORGET sometimes."

                "Forget what?"

                "That-that MAGIC is real!" Robbie exclaimed.  "I know that I've SEEN it before, but...I just forget," he said defensively, crossing his arms and looking back out at the sunset, which had changed almost imperceptibly to a grey-er pink.

                Sportacus just laughed.  "You forget? About _magic? How_ could you forget, Robbie, when you use it all the time?!"

                Robbie swivelled his head around so fast that his neck popped.

                "ME?" he asked incredulously, staring in disbelief at this...well at this ELF! " _I'm_ not the...the MAGICAL CREAETURE here, Sporta-elf!" he said, jabbing his finger at him.

                Sportacus reached past the accusing finger and patted him gently on the shoulder.

                "It's okay, Robbie," he said reassuringly.  "You don't have to hide it from _me."_

                Sportacus took back his hand, thinking.  "Well, you _couldn't_ , anyway! I could sense it, from the very first time we met."

                Robbie looked at the elf, his indignance melting away into curiosity.  "I don't know WHAT you're rambling about, Sportadork, but I'm..." he touched his own chest, "I...am a _human._ No magic in here."

                Sportacus rolled his eyes. "Robbie, please. I am not _blind._ I've SEEN your glamoured disguises before! Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

                Robbie blinked.  "A WHAT disguise?"

                "A glamour? Like the one I put on my hat?" Sportacus said, pointing up at it.

                "I don't know WHAT those brats have told you, Sportaloon," Robbie said, eyeing Sportacus' blue hat distastefully, "But that hat? Is NOT glamorous."

                Sportacus shook his head, his mustache twitching with the beginnings of ANOTHER smile.

                "Robbie," he chided gently, "You _know_ what I meant."

                "I do?" Robbie asked in bewilderment.  He had a feeling that he and Sportacus were...not quite on the same page.

                Sportacus seemed to realize this at the same time, as his easy smile utterly disappeared.

                "Robbie," he stated rather than asked, searching for answers in his face.

                "Sportacus," Robbie said back, matching his tone and stare.

                After a beat of silence, Sportacus' mouth dropped open.

                "Robbie, I don't-I-are you SERIOUS?" he asked in disbelief, voice cracking on the last word.

                "ABOUT WHAT??" Robbie exclaimed frustratedly, throwing his hands in the air.

                "Do you not KNOW that you have magic?? You use it all the _time!"_

                "No??" Robbie said, wondering if the elf had finally gone crazy, "Because I _don't??"_

                "But-but-" Sportacus spluttered, "All your disguises are clearly glamoured! Primarily to suspend disbelief! Are you _really_ not doing that on PURPOSE?"

                "I-er-" Robbie was at a loss for words.  He had never been...ACCUSED of being magic before!    What could he even SAY to that?? "I-"

                "Robbie, you _are_ magical," Sportacus said slowly, "And that is a _fact_.  Your magic might not be as powerful as the High Elves, but...it's definitely _there._ ”

                "What-I mean-" Robbie broke off as he thought, really THOUGHT, about what Sportacus had just said.  If he was right, then...that would definitely explain a few things about his weird life.  His twinges of intuition, the disguises that should fool nobody, the tingling feeling that he always felt when he kicked into a disguise spin...

                "What have-" he cleared his throat and tried again, "What have, uh, YOU noticed? About me? That's not, you know," he waved his hands in front of his body, "Regular human-y stuff."

                Sportacus snorted. "Well, for _one_ thing-teleportation?"

                Robbie froze, nose and mouth twitching. He _saw_ that?

                "Yes, I _saw_ you teleport into Pixel's house the other day," Sportacus confirmed, as if he had read his mind. "Did you think that _that_ was just a 'regular human-y stuff'?" he asked, throwing air quotes up as he repeated Robbie's phrase.

                No.  That was probably NOT a regular human-y stuff.

                "Well, um, when you put it like THAT-"

                "And what about your machinery? Of course, I know that you are _very_ intelligent, but the things your machines can do go FAR beyond unassisted human technologies."

                Robbie blushed at the compliment. "I-"

                "And, let us not forget your DISGUISES, Robbie!" Sportacus interrupted, continuing on, "You have a glamour present in each and every one of them! It is so strong that even _I_ fall for it sometimes, while knowing it's there!"

                "Well, you know, I AM the master of-" Robbie began, but Sportacus cut him off yet again.

                "I think glamours and illusions are your best magical skill," he was saying, gesturing almost as wildly as Robbie did, "Which always gets me thinking--you probably had a parent who was skilled in that area, or at least a relative!"

                Sportacus finally broke off, panting a little. "Sorry.  Got a little...carried away."

                "Don't worry about it," Robbie said distantly, waving a hand.

                "I think about it a lot, actually," Sportacus admitted.

                Robbie felt a blush creeping up his neck. "You-you DO?"

                "Yeah" Sportacus said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as HE turned a bit pink as well.  "you're the...only other person that I know here who can even USE magic, and yours is... _similar_ to my own, yet, there _are_ a few differences."

                Sportacus looked down for a moment, pursing his lips, but then looked back up.  "I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time," he said, words tumbling out in a rush.  "I thought...I hoped you might when you were ready, but...it looks like you didn't even _know."_

                Robbie was REELING, thoughts racing around and around his head.  Now that Sportacus had...neatly laid it all out in front of him, it was frankly _undeniable_ that he had some magic in him.

                "So," Robbie began, head still spinning, "uh..."

                "Yes, Robbie?" Sportacus said, endlessly patient.

                "What...what exactly IS a glamour?"

                "Well, it's sort of a...disguising spell.  I put one on my hat, like I said.  It, uh, stops people from asking why I wear it," he admitted.  He took off his hat, letting his curls flop free as he stared at the hat in his hand.

                It made for a very dramatic picture, the hero staring pensively at his own hat that hid his true nature from the world, but Robbie certainly wasn't complaining.  Any opportunity for him to see the curls flying free was a good one in his book.

                "I don't like tricking people in this way," Sportacus sighed, "But it's for the best.  _You_ certainly know that I'm too bad at lying to keep anything like that up."

                Robbie snorted.  "of course.  You're too disgustingly _honest_ for that, Sportaflop," he sighed.

                He straightened up suddenly as a light bulb lit up in his mind.

                "Wait.  You said that you could sense my...glamours," Robbie said, pieces falling into place.

                "Yes."

                "Do you think that I could...sense yours?" Robbie asked, gesturing at the hat.

                Sportacus shrugged. "I don't know, Robbie, it worked on _you_ for all these years."

                "No, no, I mean..." Robbie struggled to find the words, "Re-remember when I uh...lost your hat? And went to go find it while you were in a sugar meltdown?"

                Sportacus nodded, smiling. "I do.  And, I am still very grateful you did that for me, you know."

                "Yes, well, anyway," Robbie waved his gratitude and the sudden flustered feelings it elicited away.  He needed to focus! "That hat was hanging from a tree, pretty deep into the LazyTown Woods, but! I STILL found it, by following a...gut feeling," he put a hand on his stomach, and looked back up at Sportacus.  "Now, I _thought_ that I was simply blessed with MARVELLOUS luck, but...do you think...?"

                "Oh!" Sportacus exclaimed in comprehension, "Maybe."

                He thought for a moment, then smiled slyly at Robbie. "Would you like to test it?"

                Robbie furrowed his brows, suspicious of that... _mischievous_ tone.  "How?"

                "Well," Sportacus held up his hat and wiggled it around, "We could play a game!"

                "A GAME?!" Robbie gasped, downright offended.

                "Come on, hear me _out_ at least, Robbie! All you have to do is close your eyes, and point to where you think my hat is!"

                "Sounds pretty...inactive," Robbie conceded lamely, and he shut his eyes.

                The only thing that Robbie could feel was...stupid.  It was just dark! There was no intuition, or gut feeling, no matter how hard he tried to think about that stupid blue hat.  It could be ANYWHERE!

                "This is STUPID, Sportadork," he grumbled, eyes still closed.  "I can't SENSE anything!"

                "Hm," came Sportacus' voice from beside him, "You might have to cast a spell. Call it forth, as they say.  What did you do in the forest? Right before you found my hat?"

                "Well, I closed my eyes, like so," Robbie pointed at his still-shut eyelids, "And then I...pictured the hat in my head and..." Robbie placed his fingertips on his temples, and echoed his statement on that stressful afternoon in the forest.

                "If I were Sportacus' hat... _where_ would I be?"

                At that instant, he could feel it.  Something twinging for his attention. A gut feeling had suddenly made itself known, a gut feeling that it was _riiight-_

                Quick as a flash, he whipped his arm around and pointed on pure instinct.

                Sportacus gasped.

                Robbie peeked one eye open, his gaze following his own outstretched arm-

                Directly to the hat, perched haphazardly on Sportacus' head.

                "That's IT!" Sportacus beamed, clapping his hands.

                "Lucky guess," Robbie scoffed.

                "Oh yeah?" Sportacus had that glint in his eyes again. "Close your eyes again."

                Robbie did, and listened to the sound of Sportacus...moving around.  Doing flips? If he was doing pull ups on the sign again, that blue adrenaline junkie-

                "Okay, do it now!" Sportacus called from...somewhere other than right next to him.

                "If I were the hat, where would I be?" Robbie mumbled again, for good measure.  It still could be anywhere, but something inside of him was saying that it was-

                "There?" he asked, hoping he wasn't wrong.

                "Yes!" came Sportacus' delighted voice, and Robbie opened his eyes to see the elf hanging upside down off one of the ladder rungs, hair fanning out beneath him, a huge smile on his face.

                The hat hung loosely from one of his hands, JUST where Robbie thought it would be.

                Robbie blinked fast.  "Move-move it somewhere else," he said, closing his eyes and preparing himself again.

                His intuition-no, his MAGIC, was telling him to point at-

                Without opening his eyes, Robbie scoffed. "Are you KIDDING ME, Sportacus?" he asked, crossing his arms.  "Did you SERIOUSLY throw your hat on the ground JUST to test my magic powers?"

                "I _did!_ You _got_ it Robbie!" Sportacus was absolutely giddy, looking at Robbie with...pride? It sent butterflies racing through his whole midsection, to see Sportacus look at him with such affection.

                It was too much.

                Robbie tore his eyes away to...frankly, have a mini crisis.

                "I never _noticed,"_ Robbie said numbly, staring at his hands.  "All this time I never...I never knew."

                Sportacus placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Did your parents ever mention magic at all?"

                "My _parents_? Hah! They never told me a THING!" Robbie scoffed.  "I don't even know which one is responsible for-"

                He broke off with a sigh.  "Actually, if I REALLY think about it...it was probably my DAD," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  "It FIGURES."

                Sportacus shrugged. "Maybe.  Does he have any magical tendencies?" Sportacus asked, withdrawing his hand.

                "Pfft.  I don't know if he was _magic_ , or just a really, REALLY weird guy.  He was-" Robbie finished that sentence with just a sigh.  SHOULD he mention his dad to Sportacus?

                He looked Sportacus in the face, who was hanging off of his every word, eager eyes wide open.

                And damn, Robbie was a sucker for a captive audience.

                Especially one so CUTE.

 _I'm already keeping a secret of his,_ Robbie reasoned _, It's only fair that he gets one of mine._

                So he gathered his courage, and spoke one word.

                "Glæpur."

                Sportacus seized up at the name. "What?"

                "That was my dad's..." he paused for a moment, "Real last name."

                Sportacus' eyes widened.  "Your father's last name is Glæpur? Like..." he dropped his voice to a near-whisper,  " _Glanni_ Glæpur?"

                "That's him, Sportathick. That's...that's him."

                Sportacus nodded slowly, but stayed quiet for a moment, thinking hard.

                "I...I never met him," Sportacus said carefully, "Heard of him, though."

                "Yeah, I BET you have. Among other things, he has..." Robbie held out his hand, tapping a finger with each crime listed off. "He gave food poisoning to a whole town, broke a LOT of child labor laws, locked two kids in a SEWER, and..." he gasped, "Slapped a BIRD!"

                "Slapped a bird?"

                "That was the part HE was most proud of," Robbie explained.  "He really, _really_ hated that town's rooster."

                Sportacus nodded, thinking some more.

                "So," he said finally, "Villainy.  A family business?"

                Robbie snorted. "Hardly.  More of a...coincidence."

                "A coincidence?" Sportacus laughed, "I find that a _bit_ hard to believe."

                "It's all about the MOTIVATIONS, Sportaflop," Robbie explained, sighing.  " _He_ went into villainy to make money.  _I_ went into villainy to get some SLEEP."

                Sportacus let out a surprisingly loud laugh at that one, that gave Robbie a tingling feeling in his chest.

                "Well," he said, recovering, "I guess you ARE Robbie Rotten, not Robbie Glæpur."

                "Heh, yeah."

                A bit of silence stretched on before Robbie spoke again.

                "So," Robbie said lightly, conversationally, "Do you uh... _hate_ me now?"

                Sportacus' jaw dropped open in shock.  "HATE you?? For-for what?! Something you never did??"

                "But my dad...my dad was Sportacus 9's archenemy! Doesn't that-I don't know-" Robbie gestured wildly, trying to pluck the words from the air, "CARRY OVER?"

                Sportacus held up a hand.  "Robbie, stop. I've been here for years.  I KNOW you.  And I really..." he took another breath, " _Really_ don't hate you."

                While Robbie had sort of figured that, hearing it straight from the man himself got him a bit choked up. Robbie sniffed, and wiped at an eye.

                "Thanks, Sportacus," he choked, attempting to compose himself.

                "Anytime," Sportacus beamed, smile shining brighter than the moon. "Anytime at all."

                "So," Robbie said, trying to return things to normal, "Glanni is NOT your archenemy?"

                Sportacus shrugged.  "I hardly even HEARD about him, outside the general gossiping of what the current hero was up to," he said, trying to recall.  "But then again, I was a child, when it was really going _on_."

                "Heh. Sportachild," Robbie snickered, until a question occurred to him that he had never asked before.  "Wait a minute, here. How old ARE you, anyway?"

                "Forty."

                Robbie's jaw dropped.

                "FORTY???" he repeated incredulously.

                "Why, how old are _you?"_

                "Twenty-nine," Robbie said slowly.

                Sportacus nearly fell off the sign, pulling himself back up by the stem of a light fixture.

                "Oh my _goodness_ ," Sportacus said, looking rather awestruck, "Robbie, you're so YOUNG!"

                "You're so...OLD!"

                "Hey!" Sportacus laughed in fake outrage, I'm in the best shape of my _life!"_

                "That's-that's not the-I was BORN when you were in..." Robbie counted on his fingers, until he reached an alarming- "FIFTH GRADE!"

                "Don't be ridiculous, Robbie," Sportacus chuckled, "Elf school doesn't have _grades!"_

                "You-" Robbie reached his hands up as if he were going to CHOKE this elven nuisance, "WHY haven't I kicked you out of town yet??" he asked, flopping his hands back down.

                "I dunno, Robbie, maybe because you enjoy my company so much?" Sportacus teased.

                "I-" Robbie tried to muster up the will to say _absolutely not_ or _no way_ but he just...couldn't bring himself to do it.

                "Don't get your hopes up so high, Sportaflop," he grumbled finally, face a few shades pinker than before. "Just get me down."

-

                And there they were, standing together on solid ground again.

                "I'm just gonna go inside, and uh," Robbie waved his hands around wildly, "Rethink my ENTIRE LIFE."

                Sportacus chuckled. "Okay, Robbie. But you know," he said, shuffling his feet a little, "If you ever have any questions, about magic or-or _anything_ else, you can always send me a letter about it.  I would...I would _love_ to hear from you," he said, coloring visibly.

                Robbie felt a pang of embarrassment shoot through him as he remembered the context of his last letter to Sportacus.

                "Yes, well, um," he said stiffly, nodding.  "Ahem! Goodnight, Sportacus," he said, reaching out and patting the elf on the shoulder.

                That would have been bad enough, but instead of removing his hand like a NORMAL person, he sort of...slid it gently down Sportacus' muscular arm.

                Sportacus' eyes went wide, darting down to Robbie's hand and back up over and over.

                Robbie choked. "I mean-uh-" his arm was stuck.  His arm was stuck touching Sportacus' elbow and he couldn't make his brain send the command to remove it and Sportacus was just _looking_ at him with those EYES and he-

                "I-youhaveniceeyes-I mean-" Robbie finally regained enough control over his arm to slap it over his own mouth in horror.

                Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

                There was nothing else for it but to get the HELL out of there.

                "WELLBYE!" Robbie called as one word, as he ran off in complete mortification, not daring to look back.

-

                "Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh GOD!" Robbie said, pacing back and forth in his lair.  "What have I DONE! That was SO. OBVIOUS! With the _touching_ and the _compliment_ and the eughblughegah!" he writhed around as if his clothes were infested with ants.

                He inhaled sharply, and let it out again, in an imitation of a calming breath.

                "Okay, calm down, Robbie.  Maybe, he didn't _hear_ you! That's it! You said it pretty fast, maybe he didn't catch it?" He gasped, and swivelled around as he considered another awful possibility.  "Oh, but what if elves have SUPER HEARING?" he nervously bit his nails, pacing some more, searching desperately for reasons that he wasn't completely and UTTERLY SCREWED-

                "Oh! I've got it!" he said, raising his index finger with a smile. "What if he didn't think much of it because we are FRIENDS now!"

                His smile dropped into a frown in the next moment.

                "Oh, who am I KIDDING?? That makes it even WORSE!" he sighed. "That's not what FRIENDS do..."

                His heart clenched painfully.  He really WAS screwed. What would happen the next time he saw Sportacus?! What would he SAY?

                "Oh, I've ruined EVERYTHING!!" he lamented, placing a hand over his forehead. "How will I EVER face him again??"

                He sank into his chair, where the solution dawned on him like softly falling snow.

                Like snow, it was cold and unpleasant, and he crossed his arms against it.

                "I can STILL be friends," he said stubbornly.  "I can just, uh, pretend I was-"

                No, that was a bad idea.

                "Or maybe, if he asks, I could say that I-"

                No, he couldn't do that either.

                And, like the snow, he couldn't fight against the chill forever.

                "OKAY FINE!" he finally shouted, his face twisted with pain, "I can NEVER speak to him AGAIN!"

                Even though it was his own idea, saying it out loud still felt like a stab to the chest.

                "It's a PERFECT idea, don't you see?" he told himself unconvincingly, tears welling up in his eyes. "I ALWAYS slip up w-whenever I talk to him! If I'm NOT fr-friends, with him, then I can't _humiliate_ myself!"

                Tears were streaming down his cheeks at this point, but he angrily wiped at his face and pointed at his tear ducts accusatorily.

                "No, no, no, no more crying!" he took in a ragged breath and continued, "It is _decided_!  I, R-Robbie Rotten, will stay AWAY from that-that SportaLOSER, even though he's the BEST friend I've ever had, and I'll just be BY MYSELF and LONELY for the REST OF MY DAYS!!"  He slumped down, hands covering his eyes, the last echoes of his announcement fading away. 

                A couple quiet sobs escaped into the stillness and the emptiness of his lair.

                "Oh...I really _have_ ruined everything this time," he said quietly.

                It was going to be a long, long, rest of his days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Robbie, please, it doesn't have to be this way :(
> 
> Yep, as usual, it has been a little while...for those of you still reading, still commenting, thank you so, so much for your patience. I will do my best to continue to work on the next chapter, we are closing in on the end soon!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids have noticed that something is up, and they want to help.

Trixie was the first one to notice that Robbie was acting strangely.

Sure, he was always prone to slinking around town, spying on the other residents, being rude, antisocial, and glum…but something was different about him this time, and Trixie really couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

She finally mentioned it to Stephanie during a one-on-one basketball game.

“Hey,” she said carefully, dribbling the ball, “Have you noticed that Robbie is acting…weird?” she finished, passing the ball.

Stephanie caught it and raised an eyebrow. “Even weirder than  _ usual _ ?” she asked, passing it back.

“Well yeah, Pinkie,” Trixie shrugged, catching the ball, “I mean...sometimes he looks, like, sadder than usual, and…” she trailed off, thinking hard. “Oh! And today he saw Sportacus, and he actually RAN to get away from him! He ran FAST! When does he ever do THAT?!”

Stephanie thought. “Wait, didn’t he just do that the other day? As part of a scheme?” she said, passing the ball back to Trixie.

“I-I  _ guess _ ,” Trixie said uncertainly, but she dropped the subject, returning her thoughts to the game.

-

Some time later, during a bigger game of basketball, it was mentioned again.

“You know,” Pixel said thoughtfully, running his hands over the basketball he was holding, “Robbie Rotten has been acting WEIRD lately.”

Trixie gestured at Pixel. “You SEE! I’m not the only one who noticed it!”

“What are you two  _ talking _ about?” Stingy asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Hold up just a sec,” Pixel said, pressing some buttons on his wrist computer, “I’ve prepared all the data to back me up on this just in case you guys didn’t believe me…”

After a few seconds, Pixel cleared his throat, and began.

“So, first of all, Robbie Rotten has sighed 37% more in the past week than he usually does,” Pixel said, reading off of his wrist. “But, that’s not all! He has  _ also _ spent 25% more time hiding behind benches and walls…” he pressed a few more buttons, “And, the probability of startling Robbie Rotten during normal activities is up from 45% to 67%!”

“NERD!” Trixie called, hands cupped around her mouth.

“But get this,” Pixel continued, ignoring her, “In my study, I have found ONE factor that, if present, ALWAYS increases these anomalous results,” he said, showing them the screen of his wrist computer.

It was a picture of Sportacus.

“SPORTACUS?” everyone gasped.

“Yes!” Pixel said, grinning with delight as he delivered his main finding. “If Sportacus is around, the probability of startling him jumps from 67 percent to…EIGHTY NINE percent!!”

“So, you’re saying,” Stephanie said, brows furrowed, “That Robbie Rotten is _sad_ because of _Sportacus_?”

Pixel shrugged. “That’s what the data appears to indicate.”

“Pixel, are-are you  _ certain _ that this is because of…Sportacus?” Stingy asked, timidly.

Pixel gave Stingy a withering look. “The numbers don’t lie, Stingy.”

“I mean,” Stephanie shrugged, “I already knew he didn’t exactly…LIKE Sportacus, you know, but-“

“Of COURSE he does not  _ like _ Sportacus,” Stingy interrupted, a bit too quickly, “Why, that would be just ABSURD.”

An awkward silence descended on the group as everyone turned to stare at Stingy.

Fortunately, right at that moment, Ziggy came to the rescue.

“Look! There they are!” he called, pointing with his lollipop at Sportacus and Robbie, both approaching the basketball court from opposite sides.

“SHHH!!!” shushed everybody else, all extending a hand to cover Ziggy’s mouth as their eyes collectively darted between the two adults.

Sportacus noticed Robbie first.

“Robbie!” he greeted, waving a hand.

“AIIEE!” Robbie shrieked, responding to Sportacus’ enthusiastic greeting by panic-leaping into a nearby trash can and covering himself with the lid.

The kids shared a look. It was JUST like Pixel had said.

“Well, um,” Sportacus’ smile faded a little, but then returned even brighter than before, “I guess that I will just see you later then! Bye Robbie!”

He waved at the trash can, and ran back in the same direction he came from.

As soon as Sportacus’ footfalls faded, the kids hurried to the trash can, crowding around it to see what Robbie would do next.

The answer was, peek his head out of the trash can and immediately startle himself back into it.

“AIIEE!” he shrieked, “Didn’t your parents TEACH you how to KNOCK?!”

“Robbie, you’re in a trash can,” Pixel noted.

“STILL,” Robbie said desperately, “You are SUPPOSED to KNOCK!”

“Are you, uh, are you okay, Robbie Rotten?” Ziggy asked him.

“W-what? Uh, I’m just FINE, Candy Boy, don’t worry about me!” he said, a little too exuberantly, tossing the lid over his shoulder. “And, uh, I got to go. Right now.”

He grabbed the sides of the trash can, and hopped away in it, the sounds of clanging metal disappearing into the distance.

On any normal day, the kids would have laughed at such a funny sight.

“Okay, you guys were totally right,” Stephanie admitted, “He IS acting weird.”

“Told you so!” Pixel and Trixie said simultaneously, high fiving.

“Okay, okay, now what do we even DO with this information?” Stephanie asked, and the group fell silent.

Stingy stood up determinedly, and walked off from the group.

“Where are  _ you _ going?” Trixie asked.

“I am going to do some…reconnaissance,” Stingy said, flicking his sunglasses open and putting them on with a bit of dramatic flair. “Do NOT follow me, or risk… _ compromising  _ the mission.”

He ran off without another word.

-

Stingy ran all the way to his house, hurriedly changed into his Agent Mine costume, and ran back out, coat billowing as he headed for the billboard that concealed Robbie’s lair entrance.

His thoughts raced as fast as his feet. Pixel had just said that Robbie was sad because of Sportacus. And it might be true, based on what they all just witnessed! Given Stingy’s…SECRET knowledge about Robbie’s feelings, one horrible possibility was bubbling in his mind. Could it be? Could Robbie have confessed to Sportacus, and gotten turned down? There was NO way that that could happen! There was NO way that Sportacus didn’t like Robbie back! He simply would NOT believe it until he heard it from the man himself.

He slowed down as he approached Robbie’s lair, where he saw Robbie finally exiting the trash can.

He leaned casually against the bottom of the billboard, attempting to slow his breathing before he got Robbie’s attention.

“PSST!”

Robbie started, one leg back inside the trash can as he looked around frantically.

“PSST!” Stingy said again, more insistently this time.

Robbie finally caught sight of Stingy, giving him a curious look as he walked over to him.

“What is it?” he asked cautiously.

“Robbie, it’s me! Stingy!” he said, lifting his sunglasses to let Robbie see his eyes.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “I  _ know _ that, little boy,” he explained, “Because  _ I _ am the master of disguise. Not. YOU.”

Stingy scoffed. “I am only USING this disguise because I had a QUESTION, Mister Rotten, one that I cannot ask in front of anyone else!”

“Well? Spit it out! I’ve got…THINGS to do,” Robbie said, motioning vaguely behind him.

Stingy beckoned to Robbie, who leaned his ear down to Stingy’s level.

“Did uh…something  _ happen _ with, well,” Stingy lowered his voice, “ _ You know who?” _

Robbie huffed and straightened up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, String Cheese.”

Stingy cut straight to the point. “Did you get…. _ rrrejected? _ ” he whispered, rolling the R for extra emphasis.

“W-what?” Robbie spluttered, looking around wildly. “No! No, I haven’t told him anyth-“

Robbie froze, frowned, and leaned down into Stingy’s face. “Stay  _ out _ of my personal BUSINESS, kid.”

And he stalked away, grumbling.

Stingy heaved a sigh of relief as he headed back to his friends. He may not know what was actually going on, but at least there was still SOME hope left in the world.

-

“Back already?” Pixel said as Stingy trudged back into the arguing group.

“I found…” he took a deep breath and slumped to the ground, “No new information.”

Pixel patted him on the back.

“Why are we so sure that something’s really wrong?” Stephanie was saying, “Maybe Robbie is just…not  _ feeling _ good, or something.”

“It just…something’s just WRONG, okay, can’t you feel it?” Trixie waved her arms around, “It’s not even ABOUT Pixel’s numbers and all of that junk-“

“Hey!”

“-I just can’t shake the feeling that Robbie…needs help!”

She clamped her hand over her face. “Ugh, it’s stressing me out! I wish Robbie would just kick Sportacus out of town and go back to NORMAL!”

Ziggy gasped. “That’s it!”

They all looked at him.

“What’s it?” asked Stephanie.

“Maybe, he’s not SAD, maybe he’s just-just too EMBARRASSED to be around Sportacus! Yeah, because…because he ran out of ideas on how to run him out of town!”

Stingy gasped as well. “Pixel! Let him use your brain scanner!”

“Woah, HOLD up, Stingy,” Pixel said, holding his arms up. “What if he destroys it!”

Stingy scoffed. “He helped you MAKE it, did he not?”

“Yes…”

“And he ASKED to borrow it, rather than stealing it, did he not?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so…”

“So there’s no problem!” Trixie interrupted. “Maybe, if you let him borrow it, he will solve this himself! We won’t even HAVE to do anything else!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Stephanie said, holding her hands up in protest, “Since when are we HELPING Robbie Rotten kick Sportacus out of town!”

“I’m, uh, I’m with Stephanie on this one,” Ziggy said, “Isn’t that why we always have to STOP him?”

“Exactly, we ALWAYS stop him!” Trixie said proudly, “Whatever happens, whatever Robbie comes up with, we TOTALLY got this.”

Stephanie sighed, and shrugged. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

-

Pixel took a deep breath, and knocked on Robbie’s hatch.

_ KnockKnockKnock _

After a moment, a periscope with eyes popped out of the ground and stared Pixel in the face.

“What do you want, Techno Boy,” came Robbie’s voice, gruff yet tinny from the speaker.

“Um,” Pixel said, fidgeting, “I brought my brain scanner? In case you, uh…still wanted to use it?”

A long pause.

“Oh,” came Robbie’s slightly softened voice, “Um…okay.”

The periscope shot back down, and Robbie himself emerged out of the hatch.

“Here you go,” Pixel said, handing Robbie the machine, “And also two blank breadboards, to…well to wire yourself in.  I can do that part if you want me to-“

“Nope! No, no, that won’t be necessary, thanksnowgoaway,” Robbie said, and shut the hatch right in Pixel’s face.

The other kids ran out from behind the billboard.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Ziggy asked, bouncing up and down, “Do you think he’ll get an idea??”

“We can only hope,” Stingy said, sighing deeply and patting Ziggy on the shoulder, “We can only hope.”

-

Down in the lair, Robbie placed Pixel’s machine carefully on top of his lab table, and picked up the blank breadboards, running his thumbs over the tiny square pockets.

“Oh, I just don’t KNOW how to do circuits,” Robbie admitted, sighing deeply. “But, APPARENTLY, I know how to do… _ magic,” _ he said, extra emphasis of incredulity placed on the last word. “Could I possibly…”

Robbie stepped back a few steps from the machine, put his fingertips to his temples, and closed his eyes.

_ Call it forth, as they say. _

“I need…to copy my brain,” he said aloud, concentrating hard, “Onto these-hold on-“

He briefly opened his eyes to run forward and SNATCH up the breadboards, racing back to where he was and resuming his position.

“Onto these breadboards,” he finished, “So I can use this machine. Please.”

He felt something in his stomach, stronger than a twinge but weaker than a cramp, and he opened his eyes. 

Two darts of light shot out of the machine, and knocked the breadboards out of Robbie’s hands to the ground.

Robbie yelped and stumbled backwards. Whatever this was, it was far more INTENSE than finding Sportacus’ hat had been. Were these breadboards going to explode?

Instead of exploding, the breadboards stayed on the ground, projecting two cones of light straight up to the ceiling of the lair. They slowly shrunk back down, molding and twisting and shaping, until they reached their final form of-

Robbie.

The breadboards were each projecting a hologram of Robbie Rotten himself-the one to his left in his birthday fairy costume, and one to his right in his devil costume.

They looked almost…corporeal.

“A shoulder angel, and a shoulder devil, now delivered without the shoulders!” Robbie clapped with delight. “Sometimes…my genius even surprises ITSELF with its genius!”

His doubles looked at him, expectantly.

Robbie raised his arms. “Well? Give me advice, I am CLUELESS!”

“On WHAT?” They asked simultaneously.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Y-you know! Th-th-th-the SPORTACUS thing!! The fact that I-“

He paused, and looked around wildly to check for possible intruders before he continued, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“I  _ embarrassed  _ myself in front of him a WEEK ago and now I haven’t SPOKEN to him since and I’m going CRAZY down here ALONE and just-just-just-“

Robbie clutched at his head, and dragged his hands down his face.  

“GAH! Just  _ tell _ me what I should do!!” he demanded, abandoning his whispering tactic.

Angel Robbie sprung into action. “Well, the RIGHT thing to do, is to…TALK to him! If you talk to him about it, you can solve your problem!”

“But-but HOW could I speak to him after that?” Robbie whined, hands pleading out in front of him. “I don’t know how to TALK about that night without telling him how I FEEL!”

“Well-“ Angel Robbie began, but Devil Robbie interrupted.

“No, you should NEVER speak to him again!” he bellowed, “You really BLEW it, with that  _ youhaveniceeyes _ nonsense!”

Robbie cringed at the reminder.

“Now, now, Devil Robbie,” Angel Robbie scolded Devil Robbie, “We ARE very good at doing NOTHING, but if he does NOTHING now, he will STILL be miserable!”

Devil Robbie scratched his chin. “Hmm, you know?  You are right about that.”

He turned back to Robbie. “Listen to me, Robbie Rotten,” he said, “You are villain number one! You are the BEST bad guy that this town has ever seen! And, you are DEVILISHLY handsome,” he said with a wicked grin. “And so, you should ALWAYS do what you WANT to do, and WHO CARES if it’s the right thing to do? Not you, that is for SURE!”

Robbie grinned. “I LIKE your STYLE.”

“And, what you WANT to do is…” Devil Robbie paused for effect, “Is tell Sportacus EXACTLY how you feel! The whole kit and caboodle! The ENTIRE ENCHILADA!”

Robbie immediately soured on this train of thought, turning expectantly to Angel Robbie.

Angel Robbie shrugged. “Don’t look at ME. That was MY suggestion too.”

“What?!” Robbie said angrily, rounding on Angel Robbie. “I thought you were supposed to be my voice of REASON!”

Angel Robbie made a small offended noise. “I AM being reasonable!” he said, putting a hand to his chest.

“Then don’t tell me to do…THAT!” Robbie said, gesturing wildly. “We all know it’s a stupid stupid  _ stupidstupidstupid _ thing to do that will ONLY end badly!”

“Oh, so WHAT? You’re a villain, you’re GOOD at being bad,” said Devil Robbie, snickering behind a hand. “So, you should do what’s WRONG!”

“WHAT?!” Robbie said again, eyes flicking back and forth between them, “HOW COULD YOU-“ he sputtered, and then abruptly realized the fatal flaw in this plan.

“Oh, I see the problem here,” Robbie sighed, “You two are still ME.”

They nodded.

“I used my OWN brilliant brain for this,” he said.

They nodded again.

“So…that means that…we are ALL in love with Sportaflop,” he said glumly.

“Oh yeah,” chorused the other two, nodding. Robbie sighed, and snapped his fingers. Angel Robbie and Devil Robbie disappeared in two more flashes of light.

Well, that idea was a wash.

He sat down heavily in his chair, and put his face in his hands.

“I wish I could ask Sportacus what to do,” he mumbled. “HE would help me.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still reading this...I have two things to say to you. One, thank you so much for continuing to read, and two, I am so sorry for taking almost a year to update. I told you all that I would update, and I was not lying! But many things have happened, and I am a slow editor.  
> Next chapter...next chapter is going to be the last one. I hesitate to say that, because I have a tendency to split the chapters up, but I'm still fairly certain that that's gonna be it.  
> Some of the formatting is weird I know and I am sorry and I will try to fix it later but...it wasn't a big enough issue for me to NOT upload it.   
> I love you all and thank you for reading my story <3


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